The Wayward Daughter
by clairemarie91
Summary: Anna Gray, Polly's daughter was presumed dead when she went missing in Australia. However, she is very much alive, and now that she's made a small fortune as a burlesque performer, she's ready to find the family that was stolen from her. Polly is overjoyed, but the return of her wild daughter will not be without conflict.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

As her cab approached Small Heath, the first thing Anna Gray thought was, _This cannot be the place I was born_. The town was sooty, grey, and black, its people dreary and its streets dirtier than any she'd walked in Melbourne. She looked down at her sparkling gold t-strap heels and wished she had thought to wear something more sensible. But for that to have happened, Anna Gray would have had to _own_ something sensible.

 _Ah well,_ she thought. _Nothing that a quick shopping trip won't fix._

In Anna's experience, there were few things that a stuffed wallet couldn't take care of. After all, it was money that had bought the information she'd wanted, money that had brought her here. Money had sustained her all those years alone in Melbourne. Well, beauty didn't hurt either, but the older she got the more she realized that money could buy that, too.

They were approaching the church, a humble cathedral beside a brick building whose sign read "The Grace Shelby Foundation." It looked homey, with lots of windows and ivy crawling up the sides of the building. She wondered if this was where she had stayed when the parish had taken her. She remembered so little of Birmingham. She remembered so little of her mother. Sometimes she came to her in dreams, a dark haired woman with shining brown eyes, a tender hand pushing the hair away from Anna's forehead, the smell of clove cigarettes. She was always gone before the morning came, her memory replaced with the ones of cold houses, men with wandering hands that insisted she call them "father", bruises on her arms from overbearing women who signed papers to adopt her but used her for labor.

According to the file the parish had taken Anna and her brother away because her mother was beating them, because she drank and she used opium. She didn't remember enough to know if that was true. But if it was, then why had Anna tried so hard to get back? Why had her most compelling instinct been to run, to run home? It drove her so powerfully that they had banished her, to Australia, to a prison surrounded by ocean where no matter how far she ran, she would never make it home. So they had thought.

As soon as the boat reached land, she ran. Twelve years old, tired of being passed along from family to family like an unwanted pet, she struck out on her own, invented a new name and started looking for a job. Sparks had been the last name of one of the families she'd lived with in London, one of the kinder ones. She took their last name and the first name of a family cat who'd once curled up next to her in front of the fire: Ellie. Ellie Sparks sounded like the name of a fine, well-dressed lady, Anna thought, and it would put anyone looking for her off her trail. It took her too long to realize that no one was looking.

It was at this point in her life that Anna learned that the best way to get what one wanted in life was to be as unthreatening as possible. With her porcelain skin, rosy lips, and orb-like brown eyes, people fell quickly for the Little Orphan Ellie act. She was almost immediately hired by a grocery shop owner on the outskirts of Melbourne and put to work stocking shelves. It was easy, safe work, and Ellie did it efficiently with her nimble fingers and boundless energy for over a year. The shop owners had a daughter who'd recently married, and they let Anna sleep in her room, and fed her three modest meals a day in place of pay.

At thirteen, the shop owners introduced Anna to a boarding house mistress named Agatha. Agatha was in her mid-thirties and unmarried, and when she was nervous she spoke with a slight stutter. She told Anna that she would allow her to move into her boarding house provided that she help with the cooking and cleaning. Bored of the work in the grocery shop, Anna agreed enthusiastically and bade the generous shop owners goodbye.

She spent the next two years helping Agatha, who tended to keep to herself. Anna made beds, cooked breakfast, and dusted all the surfaces in the boarding house, which had been given to Agatha for a future family that never came. The house had a rotating cast of interesting characters: artists passing through, businessmen who came in late at night and left early in the morning, and the occasional traveler intent on viewing the wild land of Australia. Anna had heard rumours about the country, about the strange animals and curious-looking natives. All this was as mythical to her as any fairytale - her world existed in one small block of Melbourne, from the house to the shop and back.

Then, one balmy summer day in December, a tall platinum-blonde woman came to stay at the boarding house. She was the most beautiful, glamorous woman that Anna had ever seen, with sparkling new clothes and ever-present red lipstick. The train of boyfriends that came to see her at the house seemed to be infinite, each of them showering her with flowers, jewelry, and new dresses.

At dinner one evening, the woman noticed Anna, who was putting bowls of soup in front of each tenant. "You've a wonderful figure," she said, scanning Anna with slightly narrowed eyes. "Graceful. Have you ever thought about dancing?"

"Dancing?" Anna asked, her voice creaky with timidity.

"It's a very lucrative business these days," the woman said, puffing elegantly on a cigarette in a long ebony holder. "What's your name?"

"Ellie Sparks," Anna said. The name rolled off her tongue with ease now, after three years of claiming it as her own.

"Why don't you tag along with me tonight, Ellie? I'll show you the ropes."

The woman, named Sophie, introduced Anna to the world of burlesque: a whirlwind lifestyle fueled by cocaine, champagne, and endless shopping. Anna picked up the dancing quickly; it wasn't particularly difficult. For the first time in her life she realized that men were almost embarrassingly easy to please. A flash of shoulder and they were hooting, hollering, and throwing money in Anna's direction. A shimmy of her hips and they were ready to buy her diamond earrings. It was the most powerful Anna had ever felt.

However, the most appealing part of burlesque was that it was like being invited into a sisterhood. For the most part, women managed their own careers, made their own money, and spent it the way they wanted to. Almost all the dancers were unmarried. They lived together in houses with many rooms; they did each other's hair and makeup, and they took care of each other. Sophie and Anna moved into one of these houses, Sophie watching over Anna like a big sister, and for the first time, Anna felt she was part of a family.

As her dancing career progressed, suddenly Anna was the one with the string of suitors. Sophie taught her how to politely accept gifts with a coy flutter of eyelashes before disappearing without having to give the man so much as a kiss. She attended parties with much-older people who fawned over her youthful skin and her perfect figure, who never let her hand go bereft of a glass of champagne. It wasn't long at all before Ellie Sparks had become one of the most sought-after performers in Melbourne. Her boyish figure, doll-like features, and pin-straight hair were the height of fashion. For the first time, Anna felt that she was in the right place at the right time.

Life should have been perfect. By eighteen, Anna had more money than she needed, more friends than she had time for, and a never-ending supply of alcohol and drugs to banish the nightmares that sometimes still followed her. But somehow, it still wasn't enough.

In spite of her vigorous efforts to drown it, the desire for home always resurfaced, gasping and surviving, treading water. _If you think you're drowning me, I'm taking you with me,_ it seemed to say. And so, she decided to buy a ticket. Night after night she'd danced, until her feet blistered and bled, until she didn't think she could stand one more lecherous business man trying to grab a feel during her routine. All of it, the impossibly long journey by boat, the dancing, the drinking, the cocaine, the heartbreak, the abuse by the hands of those who were supposed to care for her, had led to this moment, pulling up to the very parish office where someone had signed the papers to send her away and take her family from her.

She quietly paid the cab driver and stepped out, carefully avoiding a puddle as she approached the office. It was chilly and damp, and she pulled her mink coat closer to herself as she walked. As she reached for the door, she watched her hand for any signs of nervousness and found none, as usual. Anna's best quality, she believed, was that she never showed any external signs of nervousness. She was as graceful and composed as stone, always.

A bell tinkled prettily as she opened the door to the office, and a priest turned to look at her. He had been going over some kind of paperwork with the nun who sat at the desk, and the nun, a plump older woman, looked up as well.

Anna considered herself a thoroughly modern woman, but the priest's appearance shocked her. He was black, his face a leathery topography of age and hardship, and his hair fell below his shoulders in rope-like dreadlocks. He looked more like a rugged railway man than a priest except for the way he was dressed, but as he stepped forward to greet her she noticed that he had kind eyes and a ready smile, and she relaxed ever so slightly.

"Hello, my dear," he said in a musical, island-accented voice. "What brings you to us today? I don't believe I recognize your face."

She set her face as a blank slate as she responded. "No, you wouldn't; you see, I've just arrived," she said. Her tongue was suddenly thick as she prepared to say the words she had been practicing. "I'm looking for someone."

"Who might that be?" the priest prompted gently, asking for her confession with more compassion than she expected. Somehow she had expected the place to be ominously lit and reeking of brimstone. Instead, she could smell the fresh roses on the nun's desk, natural light flooded through the windows and this man was looking at her so kindly that it made her feel small and weak, like a child again.

"My - my mother," she said, her voice the opposite of the forceful demand she'd rehearsed over and over again in the cab.

The priest's eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Why don't we discuss this in my office, Miss…"

"Gray. Anna Gray," she said, extending her hand. The words felt foreign on her tongue.

The priest did not reciprocate the gesture, nor did he move to show her to his office. His eyes widened, and behind him, the nun's head shot up suddenly. "Anna Gray," he repeated. "And what's your mother's name, child?"

She was shrinking before his gaze. No one had called her child in years. She hadn't thought of herself as a child in more. "Elizabeth Gray," Anna whispered, her voice distant and echoing. "Do you know her?"

The man was still staring at her, as though she were a ghost, an angry spirit here to demand justice for her poor treatment. "They told her you were dead." His voice was hollow, as though he were reciting rather than speaking to Anna. "Spring fever."

"So she… she's tried to look for me?" Anna asked, suddenly raspy. There were so many things Anna had prepared herself for: that her mother might be dead, that her mother might want nothing to do with her, that her mother had been glad she'd been taken away. She wanted answers, at whatever cost. But what this priest had just said filled her simultaneously with rage and hope and sadness. Her mother had believed she was dead. Of course she hadn't been able to find her. The bastards that had sent her to Australia hadn't even bothered to look for her after she ran in Melbourne - they called her dead and filed her away.

The priest stepped forward and took both her hands in his own; they were warm and textured. "She's prayed for you every day since you were taken away," he breathed.

Anna was caught in the beam of his gaze for a moment, and she felt hope rising in her chest like the swelling of a bellows. She forced the bellows to uninflate. She pulled her hands away, turning to reach into her bad. "I have papers," she said. "I bought them from the parish in London, the one that sent me to Australia." She thrust the thick red folder toward him, but he held up his hand.

"You have her spirit," he smiled. "That's all I need to know."

Anna looked away and cleared her throat. "Could you tell me where she lives now? Is she still here, in Small Heath?" Her tone was clipped and brisk. She was afraid to hope.

"She's moved to Warwickshire; not far. I'll take you," he said, immediately heading to the coat rack. The nun was still gaping at the two of them, unsure of what had happened.

"You don't think we ought to… call first?" Anna asked, hesitating. Not even in her loftiest dreams had she imagined it would be this easy to find Elizabeth Gray. She'd expected to have to fight, to have to claw and scratch her way to her.

The priest grinned, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "A man doesn't get many opportunities to deliver news like this," he said. "I plan to enjoy it."

Finally, the nun spoke. "You're Polly Gray's daughter?" she asked.

Something about the nun's voice made the delicate hairs on the back of Anna's neck stand up, making her want to hiss like a feral cat. She looked at the woman, measuring her, locating weakness. Her blue eyes were watery and pale, her hands trembling. "Yes," Anna replied, though the name Polly meant little to her. Her brain was stumbling through stilted thoughts. _Yes, Polly. A common name for Elizabeth. My mother._

"I saw you when you were just a tiny thing," the nun said, though it was not with any kind of fond nostalgia. "I saw you when they took you away."

"Sister Dawkins," the priest said with a note of warning in his voice.

Anna narrowed her eyes, looking from the woman to the priest. "I suppose you were here, too?" she asked him, regretting the warmness his manner had made her feel.

"No," he answered, meeting her eyes. It was then that she saw the fire that was roaring within him, the very thing that made him so warm. "I had nothing to do with it."

"I can't believe you'd think of going back to her," the nun spat.

Anna whirled around to look at the woman again, her veins filling with ice. The nun stood and stepped toward her, an angry aura pushing toward Anna and making her feel suffocated.

"You being taken from her was the best thing that ever happened to you."

" _Sister Dawkins_ ," the priest repeated, louder this time. He kept his eyes fixed on Anna, who was clenching her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

Anna took a breath to unleash her fury, but the priest was quicker, and calmer.

"You ought not to speak of things you don't understand," he said to the nun. "You know Mrs. Gray is a very respected person in this parish."

To Anna's shock, the nun spit on the floor, right at the priest's feet. Anna gawked at the older woman.

"Just because they have money doesn't make them respectable," she said. "Thomas Shelby doesn't own this city. No matter who he pays and who he puts in the parish."

"Sister, I assure you -" the priest began, but the woman stepped forward menacingly, though she only stood up to his chest.

"No," she said. "I'm finished with this farce. I became a sister to serve the Lord, not the Shelbys. And especially not to work under some... some…" she was sputtering under the force of her hate and anger, and the priest's mouth drew into a frown, hard lines lining his mouth and eyes.

"Watch what you're going to say next, Sister Dawkins," he rumbled, evoking the voice of God himself. "The Lord is always listening."

The woman's face grew pallid and gray, like ash settling after the burning of a candle. She appeared to be biting her tongue to hold back the stream of anger building within her. Finally, she spoke. "I'm leaving. I've had enough."

"I'll not try to stop you," the priest answered, backing away, his posture unthreatening.

The woman turned back to Anna. "You've made a mistake coming back here," she said, wagging her gnarled finger in Anna's direction. "There's nothing but sin and corruption in this place."

"Then perhaps this is my place after all," Anna murmured as the woman bustled through the door, disappearing into the mist.

Anna and the priest stood in stunned silence for a moment, and then Anna turned to him. "So," she said, eyes boring into him keenly. "Who are the Shelbys?"

He smiled, and though his eyes sparkled with amusement, Anna also sensed some darkness behind them. It was the smile of a tired man, of one who had been kept from sleep on many nights. "Your cousins," he replied. "Welcome to Birmingham royalty, princess."


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

The drive from Small Heath to Warwickshire took nearly an hour, and Anna's limbs were fraught with tension. She tapped her toe in a light, repetitive rhythm on the floorboard of the car as the priest, who had now introduced himself as Father Jeremiah Jesus (she'd barely concealed an exclamation of disbelief at this revelation), drove purposefully and without speaking.

She had thousands of questions but all of them seemed to stick in her throat, practically gagging her. Breaths were becoming harder to come by, and her head started to tighten with anxiety. _What on earth am I going to say?_ Her errand seemed suddenly ridiculous: to just waltz up to a stranger's door and say, "Hullo, I'm your long-lost daughter whom you believed dead. Pleasure to meet you," had to be the most foolish idea in the history of Birmingham.

This was not Anna's way. She rarely questioned herself so severely. She was a woman of action: she decided, and she ran toward her decisions with reckless abandon. At times this had led to trouble, but often her confidence was rewarded. Somehow this seemed more important than any of those times.

"Australia is a long way to travel," Father Jeremiah commented, pulling her out of the web of panicked thoughts that was trapping her.

"It is," Anna agreed, preferring not to dwell on or discuss the claustrophobic boat trip. She didn't do well in confined spaces - having only the ocean on any side of her was terrible.

"Is Australia as wild as they say?"

"I don't know," Anna replied, looking over at him. "What do they say?"

"They say it's a lawless country. All sorts of strange creatures running about."

A smirk pulled at the corner of Anna's lips. "The people or the wildlife?"

"Both," said Father Jeremiah, taking his eyes from the road for a moment to smile at her.

"I suppose it's true," she said. "Though I'm hardly the right person to ask. There's a chance that England will seem just as strange after so much time away."

"Wisely said," said the priest, reverting to silence. He wasn't rude; his silence was the thoughtful kind, the kind that allowed others to think. She was both grateful for this and not as the wheels of her mind spun fast and loose.

"Do you have any idea what happened to… to Michael?" Anna asked as another few miles disappeared under their tires. Michael was a nebulous being to her, a name on paper, a vague memory of a small, smooth hand in her own. For the blink of an eye, someone who had looked out for her.

"He's here," Jeremiah said, his eyes fixed on the road.

"He came back?"

Jeremiah nodded.

A mother and a brother. Anna's anxiety ramped up another level, but these nerves were colored with impatience. Michael might be the only person who could really, truly understand what Anna's life had been like, what she had gone through. She had so many questions for him, so many things she wanted to ask and tell him. She hoped he would feel the same way.

"He's got his own flat closer to the city. Moved out of Polly's last year. He's a good friend of my son's."

Anna eyed him curiously. Weren't priests supposed to be celibate?

"I became a man of the cloth after my wife passed on," he said, clearing his throat. "It's been just me and my Isiah for quite a few years now."

"I'm sorry," Anna said, both for her rudeness and for his loss.

"The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away," mused the priest diplomatically.

"He does indeed," she replied quietly, though she'd never put any stock in God or his so-called blessings. But she knew what it felt like to have people taken away.

Anna stared out at the unfamiliar landscape, trying to get some kind of sense of kinship from the rolling hills, the orange and brown leaves clinging to the trees in their last days of life. The skies were gray and clouded, dense with the promise of rain. She hadn't once seen the sun since arriving in England, and she found herself missing its warm embrace. She'd grown accustomed to the sunny Australian climate. There, the weather had just started growing warmer. Here, she knew she would be in for a long, cold winter.

They followed a wide curve, and then on their right a long driveway appeared. They passed through a wrought-iron gate and a house appeared - a big house, that could have housed all the girls from Anna's place in Melbourne two times over. It was an attractive and well-kept colonial style building, brick with black shutters and white trim. Parked in front of the house was a stunning, glossy black Bentley. The whole place reeked of class; none of it was overstated, but all of it looked expensive.

Anna swallowed hard.

This was not where she had come from. If her mother had been this type of person, with this type of money when Anna was a child, no one would have dared taken Michael and Anna. What had happened in the years Anna had been gone? Had her mother married rich? It was certainly a possibility, but it didn't explain anything about the aforementioned Shelbys, and what they had to do with this. Her curiosity was burning, but so was her fear. As Father Jeremiah parked the car, her heart began to pound hard enough to break her ribs.

"Are you coming, Miss Gray?" he asked, coming around to open her car door. She sat with her hands folded, gathering composure.

"Yes," she said, grabbing her bag. "I am."

She straightened her spine, shook off her nerves, and followed behind him. He lifted the golden door knocker shaped like a lion's head and politely rapped on the door.

A maid opened the door, a slight, blonde-headed girl with a smattering of freckles across her nose. She peered out at them curiously. "How may I help you, sir?" she said, addressing the priest and casting no more than a glance toward Anna.

"Is Mrs. Gray at home?" he asked. "We'd like to speak with her."

"Who shall I say is calling, sir?"

"Father Jeremiah Jesus," he said, tipping his black fedora.

"I'll see if she's accepting visitors," said the maid, turning to disappear into the house and leaving the two strangers standing on the porch. Anna fiddled with the strap of her bag.

"A maid," she said, more to herself than to him.

He smiled at her. "Things have changed a bit since you've last been here."

"I see," she said blankly.

She heard footsteps approaching, but it wasn't the maid who returned. It was Polly.

She was dressed well, in a black pinstriped skirt and a red silk blouse. Her dark curls curled elegantly around her ears and her eyes were glittering, as though she'd been caught in the middle of a laugh. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she looked to Father Jeremiah both warmly and curiously. Then, her eyes went to Anna.

Anna never would have been able to conjure the image of the woman who stood before her; her memories were too weak, and she knew too little. But as soon as the woman's deep brown eyes met her own, a flood of memories came back to her like frames from a picture show. She remembered the sound of Polly's voice, the touch of her hand, the way her earrings had glittered in the evening sun. Anna remembered the feel of Polly's skirt between her fingers, and the taste of her own dirty thumb in her mouth as she followed her mother around the kitchen. She remembered the sound of Michael's quiet tears as they slept in an unfamiliar room among other scared, lonely children, and her heart was suddenly more alive than it had been in years. It was alive, and it ached. Her eyes burned with tears.

Polly was greeting Father Jeremiah with jovial familiarity, but Anna heard none of their exchange. She was transfixed, frozen, paralyzed. Jeremiah's hand was on her upper arm, nudging her forward. Polly stared at her with some confusion, obviously wondering who the emotional young waif was that Jeremiah was foisting upon her - and why.

Anna tried to speak, but her throat was dry. She extended her hand for Polly to shake, and Polly took it warily, gripping it lightly as though it might break. "I - I've been trying to get to you for so long," Anna said, a tear escaping its hold and dripping down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," Polly said, still loosely holding Anna's hand. "Who are you?" She turned her gaze on Jeremiah, as if to seek answers from him.

"I'm Anna, Mum," she sobbed. "It's Anna."

She wanted Polly to take her into an embrace, to hold her and never let go, but she only retracted her hand. The same hand flew to her mouth and her eyes became wide, shiny mirrors.

"That can't be," she said, turning again to Jeremiah. "How dare you -"

"Polly," he said in a low voice. "It's true. Look at her eyes."

"If this is some kind of cruel joke, or - or ploy for money -" Polly sputtered.

"You know I would never," Jeremiah said, taking Polly's hand in his own. "It's her."

Now, Polly stepped toward Anna, who was sobbing unintelligibly, trying to get herself back under control. She reached out her hand and put it under Anna's chin, lifting it gently.

"I dreamed about you," Polly whispered. "I dreamed you were dead, and then it was true."

Anna shook her head fervently. "I ran away. I ran away in Melbourne, and they said I was dead, but it wasn't true. I have the papers. I'm Anna. I'm Anna Gray," she babbled, swiping the tears off her face. She hadn't cried since she was a child, and she hated the way it felt, hated the way her nose ran so ungracefully and the way her saliva was thick and salty in her mouth. "I tried to run back to you. I did, but they sent me away."

"But you came back," Polly whispered, her lower lip trembling.

"I had to," said Anna. "Please believe me," she begged. "I want to come home."

Now, Polly wrapped her arms around Anna, so tightly that she could hardly breathe. It was the most exquisite suffocation Anna had ever experienced. She was sobbing and so was Polly, so much so that Anna could no longer tell whose shuddering movements were whose. When Polly pulled away, it was unwillingly, as though she were forcing herself.

"I suppose we don't have to discuss all this in the parkway," she said, wiping her eyes and bursting into an almost hysteric laugh. "A proper lady would have invited you in for tea by now."

"I… I didn't mean to shock you so," Anna replied, suddenly apologetic.

Polly wiped a mess of tears away from Anna's cheek, and ran a soft thumb along Anna's cheekbone. "My Anna. It really is you."

Anna nodded, and just as she was sure she would crumple again, Polly darted toward Jeremiah. At some point he had gone to put petrol in the car, giving the women their privacy. Anna remained at the front door, weighed down with shock.

"Jeremiah," Polly said, reaching out to take his hand. "You must stay for dinner."

"Thank you, Polly, but I should get back. And I'm sure you two have plenty to talk about," he said with a grin.

"How can I thank you?" Her voice wavered, but it was just loud enough that Anna could hear. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"It was all her, Polly. I just drove the car," he said, smiling up at Anna. Anna looked away. "She's like you."

"God." Polly made a somewhere between a hiccup and a sob. "I hope not."

The two exchanged embraces and goodbyes and then Polly turned back to the porch where Anna was standing warily, a stranger in an unfamiliar place.

"Would you like to come inside?" Polly asked gently.

Anna nodded tentatively, peeking up at her mother from under dark eyelashes.

Polly took Anna's arm in the crook of her elbow, and Anna leaned against her weakly. God. She couldn't remember the last time she'd allowed herself to be weak. They entered the grand house and shut the door behind them. The day was slipping away and there was much to discuss.

Hours later, after the sun had long left them behind, two dark-haired women were sitting and laughing on a mahogany sofa, their inhibitions lowered by tea spiked with whiskey, their knees comfortably brushing against each other.

It had taken some time for Anna to explain everything - from the beginning, per Polly's request. She had told it as delicately as she could. Even now, it still stung, and she could see the pain in her mother's eyes. She left out some of the most unforgivable things. They visited Anna's nightmares enough; there was no reason to invite them to Polly's.

She spent most of the time talking about Australia: about Sophie, about dancing, about the fabulous clubs and the other women she lived with. Polly was curious and interested, and asked a great many questions but always without judgment.

When Anna had finished, Polly had begun, telling her about the war, about the family business and their relatively recent rise to power and wealth. Anna could tell that Polly, too, had edited her version of the story.

"I've taken a step down from the business, though," Polly said, her gaze traveling toward the window. "I decided to cash out before my luck turned, if you will."

Anna nodded understandingly. "And what about Michael?"

Polly pursed her lips. "Michael still works with Tommy. I hear he's got quite a senior position these days," she said, sounding vaguely annoyed.

"You hear?" Anna asked, her heart briefly seizing with fear. She wanted to know Michael - she didn't want to hear that he and Polly were at odds.

"I've asked him not to discuss business with me when he visits," she explained, and Anna relaxed. "And I don't speak to Tommy anymore."

Anna was about to ask for further clarification when they heard the front door open.

Polly looked up, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Ruben, is that you?" she called.

"Yes, darling," his disembodied voice replied from the foyer. Anna could hear his footsteps tapping along the tile. "Sorry to be late. You know how Jack can be when he starts on his war stories, hmm?"

"Is it late?" Polly asked, looking up at the clock on the mantle. She giggled girlishly.

Ruben entered the room, loosening his tie and smiling warmly. When he noticed Anna he stopped in his tracks.

"Oh darling, I wasn't aware you had company. I'm sorry," he said, approaching Anna.

Anna turned to Polly, her eyes wide and somewhat stunned. Polly had mentioned Ruben, her lover and her partner, the artist. They'd been living together for almost two years now. However, Polly hadn't mentioned what she was going to say to him about Anna.

Anna stood and extended her hand, not knowing what else to do.

"Ruben Oliver," he said kindly. Anna liked him already. He had a playful, mischievous way about him; a fox-like quickness to his movements and a boyishness to his smile.

"Ruben," Polly said, her voice teeming with laughter. "I've a surprise for you."

He looked to her and then back at Anna, his eyebrows slightly furrowing. Polly stood up to stand next to her daughter.

"Darling, this is Anna. Anna Gray. My-my daughter," she said.

"Your what?" Ruben asked, leaning back to better study Anna's features. Anna gave the tiniest smile and then bit her lip, afraid of what he would say. "But I thought…"

"So did I," Polly said. "But here she is."

Ruben was still for a moment except for his eyes, which traveled back and forth between the two women warily, as though they might be playing a joke on him. He seemed to decide something inside of himself, and then he reached for Anna, pulling her into a fervent embrace. Anna stiffened at first, but the man's warmth was infectious, and within moments tears had sprung to her eyes again.

"I don't know that I can believe it," he said, his voice slightly muffled in her hair. "But welcome, Anna. Welcome home."

Anna laughed wetly, clearing her throat of tears. She'd cried more today than in the past ten years combined. She wondered if it would ever end. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Oliver."

"Ruben," he corrected. "That accent. It's so charming. I want to know everything."

"The girl's exhausted, Ruben," Polly chided, but she was grinning from ear to ear. "We've been talking for hours."

"Have you two eaten?" he asked.

Anna realized that her stomach was empty, beginning to gurgle with hunger. She shook her head, and Polly looked at her with concern - with maternal concern.

"I completely lost track of time," she said. "I'll have the maid bring something out."

"You don't want to go out on the town? This feels like a celebration," Ruben commented, waggling his eyebrows gamely.

Anna chuckled, but Polly shook her head.

"There's plenty of time for that later," she said. "This day has been… overwhelming."

"Yes, yes, you're right," Ruben conceded. "I'll go find the maid then."

He grinned at Anna before disappearing down the hall. Anna turned to Polly. "I like him," she said.

"Yes, he's rather charming, isn't he?" Polly said, her cheeks flushing.

"Very charming," Anna agreed with a smile. "I'm so happy for you."

Polly looked down at her hands, studying them carefully. A strand of hair fell in front of her face, hiding her right eye from view. Silence rang between them; like synchronized gymnasts on a balance beam, they had stopped to catch their breath before beginning their dangerous routine. One wrong step could ruin all of it, and Anna chose her words carefully.

"When I came here," she began quietly, "I wasn't sure what to expect. I didn't… I don't remember much about Small Heath." _I don't remember much about you._ "They told me things about you…"

"I know," Polly interjected. She reached out for Anna's hands, and Anna gave them freely and looked into her mother's imploring eyes. "It's not true, what they said in those papers. I loved you, Anna. You and Michael. You were everything to me. I wasn't a perfect mother, but I would never hurt you. Never."

"I know," Anna replied. "I don't know how, but I always knew."

Another few moments passed. The clock on the mantle ticked loudly, matching Anna's heartbeat.

"I suppose what I need you to know is… that fifteen years is a very long time," Anna said.

"It is," Polly agreed.

"You may not have hurt me, but other people did, Mum," Anna said, the intimacy slipping through her lips before she could stop it. "Fifteen years is a much bigger ocean than the one between Australia and here. I'll not pretend it was smooth sailing."

"Not here, either," Polly said. Her lower lip trembled, and Anna squeezed her hand.

"I know," Anna said again.

Polly pressed her forehead to Anna's, two sets of dark eyes morphing together in blurred, teary vision. Her breath was spiced with whiskey as she whispered, "It can never be the way it was supposed to."

Anna closed her eyes as emotion shuddered through her like an angry ghost. Polly was leaning against her, anchoring her down, keeping her home.

"It can't," Anna murmured.

"I'm so sorry, Anna," Polly rasped. "I'm so sorry, my love."

She hadn't wanted the apology, and for a moment she considered protesting it. It wasn't Polly's fault. It never had been. But even as Anna's mind knew this, her heart began to flutter its broken wings. "I forgive you," she said.

When Ruben returned, it was to an embracing mother and daughter who had completely forgotten about dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

Anna woke the next morning to the sun streaming through the window directly on her face. She rolled over, burying her face in the pillow. _Curtains,_ she thought in her half-conscious stupor. _Why the hell aren't there curtains?_

Then, it all flooded back. Where she was. How she got here. The realization that she was sleeping in a rarely used guest room.

Birmingham. Polly. Mum.

She'd made it.

A smile broke over her face, and her cheeks were tired and sore from overuse. It was the first day of a new life, and she was ready to greet it with open arms.

She bounded down the stairs with childlike glee, wearing nothing but a robe over her dressing gown. She followed the smell of toast and bacon to the dining room, where Ruben was sitting and reading the paper, Polly at his side penning a letter in elegant script. They were holding hands in the inattentive way of married couples, as though there was nowhere else their hands could have been. Anna paused for a moment at the foot of the table, feeling as though she was intruding. Then Polly looked up, and her face lit up like a candle.

"Anna," she said, standing up to greet her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Of course," Anna replied. "That's a very comfortable bed. Thank you."

"We'll get the room fixed up for you soon, a little more personal," Polly said, bustling Anna to a chair at the table and waving the maid over to bring her breakfast.

"Curtains might also be nice," Anna commented with a laugh. "The sun is rather brutal first thing in the morning."

"Curtains," Polly repeated. "Of course. Hannah, make sure there are curtains affixed in Anna's room by the end of the day today," she said to the maid, who was putting a plate of food in front of Anna.

"Yes, ma'am," the maid replied promptly.

"Oh mum, I was only joking," Anna said, biting into a piece of toast. How strange it was to have food just appear before her, like she'd said a magic spell.

"There's truth to all humor," Polly replied, tucking back into her breakfast. "So, what would you like to do today?"

Anna paused and considered this, and the world seemed suddenly infinite. She didn't have to go to work. She didn't have to worry about whether there would be food on the table when she came home in the evening, or whether she'd have a bed to sleep in at the end of the day. Was this what home was supposed to feel like? Or just this specific one?

"I'd like to meet Michael," she said quietly.

Ruben put his hand on top of Polly's, and Polly looked up at Anna with a soft smile that was more evident in her eyes than her lips. "All right," she said. "I'll ring over and make sure he's home today."

She disappeared from the room, leaving Anna and Ruben alone in the dining room in slightly uncomfortable silence. "So, you're an artist?" Anna asked, leaving the toast she'd been picking at half-eaten on her plate. The idea of meeting Michael had tied her stomach up in knots.

"Yes," Ruben said, setting his paper down and giving Anna his full attention. "Mostly portraiture."

"Did you paint that one?" Anna asked, nodding toward a beautiful portrait of Polly that hung over the table. She wore a soft but serious expression and wore a fine suit, like a businesswoman. She looked regal and untouchable, and Anna found herself struck with intimidation when she saw it and realized that this was the woman who'd given her life.

"I did," Ruben said.

"It's striking," Anna replied. "You've captured her perfectly."

Anna could tell, just by looking at the painting, that her mother had found a partner who loved her wholly and truly, without reservation. The painting did not attempt at any glossiness or glamour, but showed Polly for who she truly was, without pretext. And yet, it was obvious somehow in the strokes that the painter loved the subject. Even without seeing any of Ruben's other work, Anna knew.

"Thank you," Ruben said. "I have to say she's been my favorite model."

Anna smiled at him as Polly came back into the room.

"All right," she announced. "Michael has agreed to meet us for tea."

Anna's heart began to gallop. "Did you tell him…"

"No," Polly said, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "I'll let you."  
Anna wasn't sure if she was happy about this or not; she was too busy letting her mind run away with her, imagining what he would be like. How could she possibly approach him as though he were just anyone? She wanted to clutch his hand and ask him if he remembered, if he still had nightmares about long hallways and cold, empty rooms the way she did. Although she could hardly bear to know, she felt compelled to ask if he'd been forced to ride the same depraved and dilapidated carousel of foster families that she had all those years. And as much as she wanted to ask all those questions, she knew she couldn't do it with Polly present. Strong as Polly appeared to be, Anna knew that there was a weak spot in her armor - two, in fact - and their names were Michael and Anna. Remembering the way Polly had trembled as she embraced her, Anna was sure of this.

She was quiet as she finished breakfast, quiet as she dressed. She pinned her dark hair back and put on a conservative dress: a navy cotton shift, one of the few things she owned that didn't sparkle. In spite of the powder she put on, the dark freckles that lined her cheekbones were still visible. Too much Australian sun and a dislike of hats had doomed her to be spotted forever. She studied her face in the mirror and looked for traces of her mother. She had Polly's cupid's-bow lips and arched brows, but their noses were different - Anna's was narrow and pointed. Her father's nose, perhaps, but that was one subject that she hadn't broached with Polly and didn't intend to.

Anna lifted her chin in an imitation of Polly's portrait, summoning her strength and statuesque beauty. She was ready to re-enter the world as Anna Gray.

They met Michael for tea at a hotel between Small Heath and Warwickshire called the White Willow. The restaurant inside was beautiful, inside a greenhouse-like atrium where sunlight sparkled through the windows and flowers were all around. Everything was green and lush, and in spite of her initial reservations, Anna was beginning to see England's beauty in comparison to the perpetually dry and brown Australia.

"He's late," Polly said, her lips pressing into a thin red line as she glanced at her watch.

Anna felt seasick, worse than she had on the boat over. She hadn't taken one sip of the tea that sat in front of her growing cold.

"He works too much," Polly continued in the face of Anna's pale silence. "I'm sure he's quite annoyed that we've taken him from the office in the middle of the day -"

"Mum!"

He was swaggering into the room, sandy-haired and smiling sunnily. His suit was impeccable, cut to perfection and without a wrinkle, and his black leather shoes shone like mirrors. He had grown up well, into a handsome young man with confident posture and green-blue eyes as powerful and natural as the sea. The same eyes she would have known anywhere. Michael's eyes.

He didn't look at her at first, focusing on Polly who was scowling at his lateness. Then he made eye contact with Anna, and all the air left her lungs.

"Who's this, then, mum?" he asked, his smile diminishing as he took her in.

"I'll let her tell you," said Polly with a hint of mischief under her voice.

Anna couldn't.

Finding her mother had been one thing. She had thought of nothing else almost her whole life, so finding Polly was a natural ending to her story, a pleasing resolution. She hadn't expected Michael. Michael, who knew the truth about what they'd been through, Michael who'd held her hand as she'd cried for missing their mother. Polly was the future of Anna's family. Michael was the past.

He was looking at her warily, as though she were a stray cat that Polly had brought into the restaurant, as though she were crazy and Polly was crazy for having brought her. Anna's lips opened and closed. Her throat was dry.

"Anna?" Polly put her hand on the small of Anna's back, encouraging her.

"You look - you're a man," Anna stammered. Tears stung the back of her eyes.

"Anna?" Michael asked, repeating Polly's use of her name. His face paled, his sure composure weakening slightly. He recognized her. She saw it flash in his eyes. "It can't be."

"You remember?" Anna squeaked. "It's me. It's Anna."

"You're…" he started.

"I know," Anna said.

Michael looked from Polly to Anna and then back to Polly, trying to deduce if she was pulling one over on him. Polly's eyes sparkled with moisture, and she was smiling. She had probably never imagined she would see her two children in the same room again, let alone interacting as grown adults. Damaged, but living. Hearts still beating in sync. Anna thought she could hear his thrumming along with hers.

"How did you -"

"It's a long story," she said. "And I'll tell it to you, but I -" the questions were trembling on the edge of her lips, but then she remembered Polly standing next to her. "I'm so happy to see you, Michael."

Michael shoved his hands into his pockets and turned his gaze back to Polly. "How long have you known?" he asked.

"She just turned up last night," Polly said, glowing. "She found her way back."

"This is a hell of a thing to spring on someone, Mum," he said flatly, clearing his throat.

Anna's heart was pounding and the tears that had been threatening to escape began to blur her vision. .

"Sit down," Polly said. "Have some tea."

"I can't stay long," he said. "Tommy needs me back."

"Fuck Tommy," Polly spat. "I think he can manage for a few hours."

"I have a lot to do," Michael protested.

"Michael, do you understand -"

"How do you know this is even really Anna?" he asked, looking over at her sharply. "How do you know she's not some actress after your money?"

Anna gaped. He had recognized her. She knew it. How could he say such a thing?

"Don't be ridiculous," Polly snapped. "It's her."

"Michael…" Anna ventured.

He narrowed his eyes. "My sister is dead," he said. "I don't know what you're playing at."

Anna's cold fear was quickly turning to fiery anger. How dare he pretend not to know her? How dare he speak to Polly that way? She rose from her seat and stepped toward him. He wasn't tall, but neither was she, and she still had to look up to meet his eyes.

"It's me, Michael," she said. "I know you recognize me. I saw it in your eyes. You're forgetting that I know you better than anyone else in the world."

"How could I recognize you?" he asked, looking back at her coldly. "I wasn't more than six the last time I saw my sister."

She was amazed at how boldly he could lie, without so much as a blink. It was a skill she often thought she alone possessed.

"You're afraid," she said, laughing bitterly. "Michael, I know it's hard to think about those times, but-"

"I am afraid of nothing," he said, his voice dropping to a menacing hiss. "You know nothing about my past. And I know nothing about yours. My mother might believe you, but I don't."

"What do I need to do to convince you?" Anna asked. There were only a few people in the restaurant, but they were beginning to stare. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I have papers. I remember things, Michael. I remember you. I remember - "

"Stop!" he said, his voice briskly cutting through the high-ceilinged room. "I have to go. Mum, you really ought to look into this more. I don't trust her."

"Michael," Polly said in a voice that was half-commanding and half-pleading.

Michael kissed Polly on the cheek then turned and walked out, drawing glances from the other restaurant patrons as well as the staff. Polly sank into her chair with a loud sigh, and Anna sat across from her primly, unsure of what to say. If Michael had planted even a seed of doubt in Polly's mind, Anna didn't know what she would do. After all she'd been through and all the searching she'd done…

She was angry. Michael was the one that seemed an impostor to her. What had happened to the boy who'd protected her the best he could from those that would harm her? What happened to the boy who'd held her hand and told her stories to keep her from getting too scared? Left in his place was a cold slab of stone carved to look like her brother.

"God damn him," Polly said. "He's acting just like Tommy."

It was the second reference that day to the mysterious Tommy, Polly's nephew, head of the family company that Polly had left behind. However, Anna's fury was greater than her curiosity, and she decided without asking that if Tommy was who Michael was emulating, she hated him.

Silence stretched between them at the table, a groaning chasm of the unspoken. Polly reached across and put her hand under Anna's chin. "I believe you," she said. "I know who you are."

Anna took Polly's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you," she said. "I had hoped…"

"He needs time," Polly said. "He's slow to warm up. He's had a hard time."

 _We both have_ , she thought, but she didn't have the desire to salt that wound for her mother. Instead, they finished their tea and talked about simpler things: clothes, the latest news, the weather. The kinds of things that were easy to discuss while planning something else entirely.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

Anna loved Polly. Loving her was surprisingly natural, even after a lifetime of hardship. Their bond was innate, like a thread that stretched out between them, sewn into their respective hearts. With each passing day, that thread grew thicker and stronger, and for this reason Anna noticed for the first time that she felt guilty about manipulating someone.

Polly was shrewd and independent, but it was blatantly obvious that she had a blind spot when it came to Anna, and to Michael as well. It was easier than it should have been to get the information that Anna needed. Where Michael might spend his time, how one might get there. Polly chattered without reservation, and though Anna wasn't sure if Polly would disapprove, she didn't see the sense in having her worry.

So, with a slightly guilty conscience, Anna found herself sitting in Small Heath, in a pub called the Garrison, nursing a gin and tonic and waiting for Michael to walk through the doors.

"Haven't seen you around here before," the barkeep had commented as he poured her drink. "You new in town?"

"Yes," Anna said, not volunteering any additional information.

"You watch yourself," he said. "This isn't a safe part of town for ladies out on their own."

Anna rolled her eyes and took a drink, observing the growing crowd around her. It was early still, and most the pub patrons were workmen rolling in off the end of their shifts eager for a pint, too tired to be raucous. Even if they did become rowdy, Anna wasn't afraid of drunken men. They lacked coordination, and what they had in brute strength, she had in wits. And, if all else failed, she never left home without a gun in her handbag. Ever since she'd started dancing in Melbourne it was an essential part of her everyday belongings. She'd never had to use it, thank God - brandishing it did the job just as well.

The pub itself was ridiculous, overly gilded, completely ostentatious and out of place in this part of town. Small Heath was dim and dirty, lacking in color. In comparison, the Garrison was almost blindingly oversaturated, almost cartoon-ish. The sun had completely disappeared and Anna was two drinks in when Michael finally appeared in the bar, predictable as clockwork.

He was accompanied by a slim young man with carved cheekbones, who by looks Anna guessed might be Jeremiah's son, and a pale, freckled young man whose jacket, though expensive, looked a size too big. Anna waited for him to see her; she knew that he would. The way he was looking around, assessing the area more astutely than a detective, made her sure of it.

Their eyes locked, and his turned to ice. The three young men bellied up to the bar, Michael right next to her. The other two boys began to order, bantering raucously with the barkeep, but Michael began to speak out of the corner of his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking straight ahead, not even honoring her with eye contact.

"I want to talk to you," she said, not bothering to be quiet. She wanted to catch him off guard, if it was possible.

He turned fiercely to look at her. "I have nothing to say to you," he said. "The next you'll hear from me will be through the police."

Anna snorted. "Because you're having me investigated? Michael, they're not going to find anything but the truth. It's me."

He bared his teeth, and for a moment Anna could have sworn he had wolf-like incisors, ready to go in for the kill. "You think the police around here care about the truth?" he whispered. "They care about what I tell them. Nothing else."

"Why are you doing this?" Anna asked, dropping her voice to match his menacing tones. "I thought you'd be glad to see me."

"I don't know you and I don't trust you," he said. "It's as simple as that."

"Hey, Michael," the man who might be Jeremiah's son said, turning to look at the two of them.

Anna looked up at him with fire in her eyes, unable to turn off her ferocity, and he backed away slightly.

"You know this bird?" he asked, voice slightly wary.

"We were just having a chat," Michael said, cool as ever.

The other man extended his hand. "I'm Isiah," he said. "Haven't seen you around here before."

Anna shook his hand, forcing her features into unthreatening coquettishness. "I'm new in town," she said, looking at him from under her lashes. "I'm staying with Polly."

"Polly didn't mention anybody staying with her," the third boy said, now turning to join the conversation. "Where'd you come from?"

Michael was gritting his teeth; Anna could see the muscles in his jaw clenching.

She smirked. "Australia," she said. "Melbourne."

"Shit," Isiah said. "That's a long way."

"It is," Anna said. "And I've had such a hard time meeting new people here. Any chance you boys would be willing show a girl where to have a good time around here?"

Isiah grinned, forgetting how put off he'd been only moments before. He nudged Michael to the side, stepping closer to Anna. He was handsome, and his sure posture and cockish smile indicated that he knew it. It was hard for her not to laugh - men really believed they were in charge, and yet, it took so little to grab their reins and lead them in the desired direction.

"What do you think, Finn?" Isiah asked, elbowing the third man in the ribs. "Want to show this young lady how we have a good time in Birmingham?"

The young man, Finn, was staring at Anna curiously, his look of apprehensive appraisal a stark contrast to the hungry way Isiah was eyeing her. He seemed to be the youngest of the three men, his face smooth and his body skinny and unformed like new clay. "You're staying with Polly?" he repeated, still a few minutes behind in the conversation.

"Yes," Anna replied, smiling her most dazzling smile.

"What's your name?" he asked, refusing to shake the hand she was extending.

"Anna," she said. She looked up at Michael, who was still clenching his jaw, and she would guess his fists as well - they were firmly shoved into his pockets. He was glaring at her meanly, but she knew she had all the power. She could reveal everything, and there was nothing he could do about it… it was invigorating, and Anna wasn't quite ready to let it go. "Sparks," she finished, using her old nom de plume.

"You look familiar, Anna Sparks," Finn said, still squinting at her, unsure.

"Maybe we've met in a past life," Anna said with a wink.

Isiah was thoroughly charmed. He slammed a stack of bills on the bar, paying for her drink, and took her arm in his to escort her out into the blooming Birmingham night.

"Is," Michael said as they headed for the Garrison door. "Come on. We had plans."

Isiah looked from Anna to Michael and back again. "Beautiful women always trump plans. You know that, mate," he said, winking lasciviously. "You coming or not?"

They went. Between the two drinks Anna had consumed and the way that people somewhat nervously crossed the street when they saw her three escorts walking toward them, she had to admit she was feeling heady and powerful, her limbs tingling with possibility that she hadn't felt since arriving in Birmingham. In addition, Isiah was great company. While Michael and Finn hung back somewhat warily, Isiah was effusive, charming, and funny, playfully pointing out the dismal sights of Small Heath as they walked along to their destination, letting Anna take his arm like a true gentleman.

To her delight, they went dancing. The place wasn't anything fancy, but the band was good, and it didn't take very long for the thrumming beat of the drums to overtake her. It was feverishly hot and crowded, and Isiah spun her around it skillfully until they were both sweating and out of breath.

"I need a drink," she said into his ear so that he could hear her above the music and clamoring crowd. But before she could head for the bar, Michael gripped her upper arm.

"Mind if I steal a dance, Is?" he asked with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Don't let her get stolen away by anybody else," Isiah said with a grin, retreating to the bar.

Rather than dancing, though, Michael led her toward the back door and out an exit she hadn't even realized was there. They were standing in an alley, and the air was shockingly cool compared to the oppressiveness of the club. Anna crossed her arms, wishing she had her coat.

"What are you playing at?" Michael asked, obviously agitated.

"Your mate's a lot of fun," Anna said, grinning for no other reason but to goad him. "I like him."

"What do you want?" Michael demanded, ignoring her. "Money?"

"I want to spend time with you, Michael. I want you to acknowledge that you know me," she said, her voice more earnest than she would have liked.

He paused, pulling a cigarette from his suit jacket pocket. He went to light it then paused, offering it to her. She took it and held it out for him to light. He did, with an engraved silver lighter, then lit his own. The two of them smoked in silence for a moment, Anna waiting for him to speak.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Michael looked at her. "It's really you, isn't it?"

Anna nodded and took a long drag from the cigarette.

"Fuck," he breathed, puffs of smoke leaking from his mouth and nostrils. "Anna, I thought -"

Suddenly he had pulled her into a tight embrace, and she felt her eyes filling up with tears. She shoved him away.

"You prick!" she cried. "Pretending like you didn't remember when all I wanted was to find you!"

"Anna, you don't understand - "

"I understand!" she said. "I understand better than anyone else, Michael! You think I want to remember those times?" She took a long, shaking inhale. "Fuck. What I went through… what _we_ went through…"

"It's behind me," Michael said, snuffing her sentence out like a dead cigarette.

"Yeah," Anna said, wishing it were further behind.

They were silent for another minute, Anna studying the cobblestones under her feet, Michael smoking and staring out into space. The stars were hidden by a blanket of fog and smoke, and for a brief moment Anna thought of Australia and the life she'd built there. She thought of the nights spent on the roof at their house, looking up at the infinite blanket of stars with Portia. There was a small twinge, like that of a sore muscle, in her heart. She'd tried so hard not to think of it… Of her.

She looked up at Michael and made herself remember the reason she'd come.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"Australia," she said. "I wasn't lying. About any of it."

"Why did you come back?" he asked. "Why now?"

"Why did you?" she replied. He must have felt it too. The pull toward home. The feeling of unbelonging that plagued her wherever she went.

However, he just shrugged. "Tommy came and found me," he said. "Told me the truth. After that it was too hard to keep living the lie."

Anna nodded.

"I missed you, Annie," he admitted, reaching out to take her hand.

She squeezed his hand, which dwarfed hers now. When they were small they had been closer to the same size.

"I missed you, too," she said. Holding his hand like this made her feel safe, the same way it had when she was small. She looked up at him with a smirk. "You're going to apologize to Mum, right?"

His mouth twisted up into a crooked smile, the first she'd earned from him. "Yeah," he said. "I'm going to apologize to Mum."

Just then, Isiah burst out of the back door, Finn on his heels. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, looking offended when he saw Michael and Anna together.

Michael laughed, dropped his cigarette and stamped it out with his fine leather shoe. "Isiah, I'd like you to meet my sister: Anna Gray," he said. While Isiah was staring with his mouth open, Michael gestured toward Finn. "Finn, come meet your cousin."

"I fucking knew it," Finn grumbled. "I knew there was something about her. She looks just like Aunt Pol."

"You didn't know shit," Isiah said, shoving Finn playfully. "Why didn't you tell us, Mike?"

"I wasn't sure if she wanted me to," he lied glibly. "Not everybody knows yet. And if either of you fuckers thinks of telling Tommy-"

"Tommy doesn't know?" Finn cut in, incredulous.

"You know he and Pol don't talk anymore," Michael replied.

"Yeah, but shouldn't he get to know?" Finn said.

"I'll take care of it," Michael said, and that was clearly the end of the conversation. Anna remembered what Polly had said about Michael having a senior position in the company, and it was clear that these two young men respected him and deferred to him, even if he wasn't much older.

"Polly said you were dead," Finn said bluntly, staring at Anna as though she might be an apparition. He was the first cousin she'd met, the youngest Shelby. He carried youth in his face like someone who didn't have to rush to grow up, and she envied him.

"She was wrong," Anna said, then promptly changed the subject. "It's cold out here, and I could answer all the questions just as well at a pub. Are you boys going to let me freeze to death?"

Michael nodded curtly. "You lot heard the lady. Go get her coat. We're leaving," he said.

As they walked back inside, Michael put his hand protectively between Anna's shoulder blades, guiding her through the club, letting everyone know that she was part of his tribe. The powerful feeling from before hit her again, making her lightheaded. This was family. She was home.

She was never settling for anything less again.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

 _The world was spinning, but Portia was in perfect focus, even as everything around her melted into a colorful oil painting drenched with rain. Anna reached out her hand, needing help balancing. Portia's hand was warm in hers and her laughter sounded like music._

" _You've had too much to drink," she said, letting Anna lean against her shoulder._

" _Maybe," Anna said, closing her eyes to help the spinning stop._

" _Darling Ellie," Portia said, brushing a strand of hair from Anna's forehead. "When will you stop doing this to yourself?"_

" _Hmm," Anna murmured noncommittally, nestling her head into the soft crook of Portia's neck. "I'm sleepy. Take me to bed."_

 _Portia sighed, so long and deep that Anna felt it rush through her whole body like a warm breeze. "You should go to bed. Come on. Let's get you some water, hmm?"_

 _Portia led Anna by the hand through the front door and into the kitchen, then handed her a cup of water. Anna jumped up to sit on the countertop, swinging her legs like a child and sipping the water quietly. "You don't love me anymore, do you, Portia?" Anna asked, emotions brought on by too much champagne bubbling up from the bottom of her heart._

" _Ellie," Portia said, turning her back to Anna to face the black, lightless window. "This isn't the time to talk about this."_

" _Why are you taking care of me if you don't love me anymore?" Anna whined._

 _Portia turned sharply and crossed the kitchen. She took Anna's cheek in her soft, cold hand and pressed her mouth against Anna's, hard. Anna melted into her instantly, prying Portia's lips open with a fervent tongue. Portia put her hands on Anna's shoulder and pushed her away. "I do still love you, you idiot," she said, wiping her mouth as though ashamed. "You know I do."_

" _Then be with me," Anna pressed, reaching out for Portia again. "Don't leave me alone."_

" _It's not as simple as that," she said. "I can't just be with you. You… You're…"_

" _I'm what?" Anna spat, her earnestness turning to anger in the face of rejection. "I'm broken? Why don't you just say it?"_

" _You're not broken," Portia said, but Anna knew she was patronizing her. "You're unavailable. It's like you're made of stone."_

" _Not true," Anna mumbled, though she knew it was._

" _One minute you're madly in love with me and the next you can't stand the sight of me. My heart can't take it."_

" _You're the only one," Anna entreated. "You're the only one who ever…"_

" _Don't make me feel guilty about it," she said. "Just don't."_

" _But Portia, I -"_

" _Go to bed, Ellie," she said coldly. "You're drunk."_

In Anna's dream, Portia disappeared into a rosy mist, leaving nothing behind but the smell of powder and perfume. In real life, she had walked upstairs to her bedroom, leaving Anna crying in the kitchen. Anna didn't cry much back then… only when she'd had too much to drink, and only when it came to Portia.

There were tears on her cheeks when she woke. She'd decided to leave for England shortly after that conversation because Portia was the last thing keeping her there in Australia. And apparently, she would never be enough for Portia while she was still missing such a big piece. There was a part of her that imagined sending a letter, asking Portia to come to England to be with her, explaining that things would be better, that she'd found the missing thing that had made her so broken.

But, she had been in England for almost two months, and she was still struggling to feel… settled. It wasn't that anything was bad. In fact, she had nothing to complain about at all - she was fed, sheltered, and for the first time she was with people who she knew she belonged with, people she'd been longing for the majority of her life. However, all those things didn't change the fact that she had entered a story in progress. No matter her genealogy or last name, many things had happened in the time she'd been gone, and like trying to jump between the ropes in Double Dutch, Anna was having a hard time getting her timing just right.

Polly had Ruben, Michael had his job and his friends, and everyone seemed to have a secret history that Anna couldn't quite grasp yet. She had met John and Finn, and even Tommy however briefly, but they all seemed insular, unreachable.

The one person who provided a clear window into the clouded mystery that was the Gray/Shelby clan was her cousin, Ada Shelby.

When Anna had first arrived, Ada had been in Boston with her son Karl, doing some kind of job for the Shelby Company. Anna had been in Birmingham almost a month when she returned, but Ada had greeted her as warmly as though they'd known each other all their lives, and immediately invited her over for tea. Ada was funny, independent and whip-smart, and Karl was clearly growing up under her influence as the most eloquent and charming child Anna had ever met.

That morning, she was off to go shopping with Ada, who was attending a wedding over the coming weekend and had invited Anna to join. Polly offered to watch Karl for the day, and so the two women took the train into London to visit some of the finer shops.

"I usually tend to buy things second hand," Ada explained as they walked into a dress shop. "But Tommy's just given me a raise, and I think I deserve something nice, don't you?"

"Of course," Anna said, whose fashion sense would never had allowed her to wear something secondhand.

"Besides, this shop makes all their own dresses rather than sending them to factories to be made," she said. Lowering her voice, she clarified: "That's why they cost so much."

Anna chuckled, pleased with Ada's ethical-minded shopping. There were so many things that Anna had never considered before spending time with Ada: where her clothes came from and who was making them, and how much those workers were being paid to make them. Most the women that Anna had spent time with in Australia, though kind, were solely focused on their own lives, too busy to devote time to politics and philanthropy. Ada, on the other hand, rarely seemed to think of herself.

"Is it hard working for your brother?" Anna wondered, rubbing the skirt of a blue silk dress between her fingers.

"Not especially," Ada said, distracted as she browsed through a rack of skirts. "Ever since he's gone straight, Tommy's actually a very good employer. By the books."

"Gone straight?" Anna repeated.

"Oh," Ada said, pausing to look up at Anna. "Polly hasn't talked to you about all that yet, has she?"

"No," Anna replied. "She doesn't mention Tommy around the house at all."

Anna had met the elusive Tommy Shelby once, when Michael had brought her to see the office where he worked. He was a dark, serious man, with gaunt cheeks and haunting blue eyes. Thin and not very tall, he shouldn't have cut a very intimidating figure, but he carried a certain gravitas that made Anna nervous just to be in his presence. When he spoke in his deep, gravelly voice, people listened, and when he entered rooms they went silent.

He'd shaken Anna's hand, offered to help her if she needed anything, then retreated to his office and closed the door.

When Anna had returned home after that, Polly had seemed in a foul mood, as though she had wanted to keep Anna to herself. Anna had tried to ask what had caused the rift, but Polly had waved her off, insisting that it wasn't important.

But now, alone with Ada, Anna couldn't help but be tempted to try to get to the bottom of everything.

Ada sighed. "It's not really my place to say, then," she said. "What do you think of this one?" She held up a purple dress with a scalloped hem that sparkled with silvery beads.

"I like it," Anna said. "You ought to try it on."

All talk of anything but clothing ceased as Ada and Anna both tried on dress after dress, each of them leaving the shop with a new addition to her closet. They were feeling lighthearted as they headed to a nearby restaurant for lunch.

The restaurant was quiet by London standards, only a few tables filled, and even though it was the middle of the day it was dim: the lights were low, and the sun was under cloud cover outside. They settled into a small booth by the window across from one another.

"So, Anna," Ada said as they waited for a waiter to return with their drinks. "I feel as though I've talked your ear off but I hardly know anything about you, or your life in Australia."

"There's not much to tell," Anna demurred. "I lived, I worked, I saved money, I came here."

"What did you do for work?" Ada asked.

"A little of this and a little of that," Anna replied vaguely. "Have you been to this restaurant before?"

Ada chuckled softly. "Anna," she said. "I don't want to pry into your personal life if you're not interested in sharing. But I just want you to feel as though you can talk to me. I imagine you must feel terribly alone here."

"Alone?" Anna parroted. "No, I… I'm with my family."

"A family that's practically strangers," Ada said. "Which isn't to say that we're not completely chuffed to have you, because we are. It's more than we'd ever dreamed. It's just that, I'm sure you must have had some things or people in Australia that you were sad to leave behind."

Anna was tempted to say no, that there was nothing there for her, that coming here had been the only thing that mattered. But the dream of Portia was still at the top of her mind, and Ada's kind but firm manner made it hard to lie to her. "You're right," she said. "There are some things I miss."

"Of course," Ada said kindly.

"I don't like to discuss the past with Polly, because I don't like to remind her," she said. "Even though it's all said and done, I hate for her to worry."

"I'm sure whatever she's created in her mind is worse than the truth," Ada said. "She's strong. You ought to put more faith in her."

"Maybe," Anna agreed.

The waiter appeared at their side and handed them their drinks, then took their lunch order. When he walked away, Anna took a sip of water and looked up at Ada. "I was a dancer," she said. "Back in Melbourne. And a bunch of us girls lived together in a house outside the city, and it was…the loveliest thing. Like being part of a tribe of women."

"That sounds wonderful," Ada smiled. "You miss them?"

"Of course," Anna said. "But it's hard to miss someone who never really knew you, do you know what I mean?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I went by a different name there," she explained. "No one knew anything about where I'd come from, or who I was. It was so superficial. And now, everyone knows who I am and where I came from, but they don't know where I've been for the last fifteen years. It's all very strange."

"I could imagine," Ada said.

Anna stared down at her napkin, wondering if she'd said too much. She felt exposed having shared this much information, and she wasn't sure how to recover.

"May I tell you what I think?" Ada asked politely.

"Please," Anna said, looking up curiously.

"I think, whatever you may have left behind, you made the right decision," she said. She folded her napkin neatly in front of her. "There were times when all I wanted was to change my name and to be rid of this family forever. But in the end, I'll always come back to them. Your family… they're the only ones who will always take you in, who will always forgive you."

"What about Polly and Thomas?" Anna interjected.

"There's time yet for them," Ada said with a smile. "Tommy's changed. Pol hasn't accepted it yet, but she will."

"She doesn't seem like the type to roll over so easily," Anna noted.

"You're right about that," Ada laughed. "But you shouldn't worry."

"Ada, what happened?" Anna implored. "I need to know. I hate being on the outside like this."

Ada sighed. "You have to understand, Anna; it's a hard story to tell. There are so many factors."

"I have time," Anna replied. "Please, Ada."

"I can't," Ada said. "It's not my story to tell."

Anna sighed and accepted defeat. She didn't want to antagonize Ada, not when they were getting along so well.

"But…" Ada continued. "I can talk to Polly. Tonight."

"You'd do that?" Anna asked, hope rising in her chest.

"I'm not going to promise anything, but I'll try," Ada said.

"Thank you, Ada," Anna said quietly.

"I'm not making any promises," Ada repeated. "But you're a part of this family, and you deserve to know." She reached across the table and put a warm hand on Anna's cold one. "For better or for worse."

Karl was asleep in the upstairs bedroom when Ada and Anna arrived back in Warwickshire, and Polly was in the sitting room reading. "Did you girls have a good time?" she asked when they entered the room.

"Very good," Ada replied.

"Did you find a dress?" she asked.

Ada nodded and settled down onto a sofa. Polly poured the three of them half-glasses of whiskey and the three women sat in a semi-circle, letting the stress of travel disappear from their shoulders.

"Polly," Ada ventured. "Anna was asking me today about why you and Tommy don't speak anymore."

Polly cast a glare in Anna's direction, and for the first time, Anna considered that Polly might be angry with her. The very thought knocked the wind out of her, like a punch in the stomach. She wasn't ready for it. "I'm sorry, Mum," she said, words stumbling over one another. "I just feel… I feel like there's so much that I don't understand."

"It's the past," Polly said, taking a sip of whiskey.

"So was I," Anna said, and the room went frosty and silent. Anna's words were suspended in the air, ringing like the after-effect of a gunshot.

Ada looked at Polly expectantly. "She's a part of the family, Pol," she said, breaking the silence. "She deserves to know the truth about what she's come into, don't you think?"

Polly seemed to contemplate this, swirling the whiskey in her glass. "I'd rather have you believe it was always like this," she said, her voice quiet and raspy.

"Mum," Anna said, leaning forward so that their knees touched. "I know it wasn't always like this. I don't remember much, but I know that."

"All right," Polly said. "Where should I start?"

"Tell her about the business," Ada gently prompted.

"Fine," Polly said briskly. "For years, the Shelbys were bookmakers. Not everything we did was perfectly legal, but we didn't make waves, either. The boys went to war, I ran the business while they were away; everything was fine. Then they came back, and they were… different."

"Different?" Anna asked.

"Tommy in particular. He seemed to need to… right some wrong in the world. He started trying to move up. Fixing bigger races. Moving into London."

"I see," Anna said.

"Then there was the matter of the stolen guns. Tommy got mixed up with powerful people, with the wrong people. Government people. Russians."

"Oh." Anna was pretending to understand, but it was all so vague, and she couldn't really understand what might have happened.

"We helped him. We were all there by his side, through all of it. Even when he acted like a complete imbecile, even when he asked for the impossible," she said. "And then, his wife was killed."

"His wife?" Anna asked. No one had ever mentioned Tommy being married.

"Yes. Grace," Polly said. Something flashed through her eyes, something like sadness, something like anger. Something complex. "Tommy was… destroyed. And he made some terrible decisions and got himself into a lot of trouble."

Anna waited quietly for Polly to continue, allowing her to gather her thoughts.

"He made an arrangement. With Churchill."

" _Winston Churchill?_ "

"Of course," Polly said, waving her hand as though that wasn't the part she wanted Anna to focus on. "He arranged to have us, _his family_ , put into prison in order to settle things with Churchill. After all we had done for him. After all the work we did and the sacrifices we made."

Anna's mouth dropped open.

"Arthur with a baby on the way," Polly spat. "All of us with plans and hopes, and he had us thrown into cells to rot while he played with the big boys."

"How long were you inside?" Anna asked.

"Fortunately, Ruben had a lawyer friend who stepped in for me. Got me out after two weeks. It was Arthur and John who were in longest."

"John was -" Anna couldn't complete her sentence. She knew John. She had spent time with him at the Garrison alongside Michael. Never once had he mentioned going to prison, or harboring any bitterness toward Tommy. Neither had his wife Esme implied anything, on the two brief occasions when Anna had met her.

"Yes," Polly said sharply. "Arthur always was the smarter of the two of them."

"Arthur went to California," Anna intoned, trying to make sure she was following.

"And not before time. At least now he has a chance at a peaceful life, away from all this…" she waved her hand, flustered. "All of this. And that's why I'll never have anything to do with Thomas Shelby again. Understand?"

"Yes," Anna replied quietly, chastened by the confession.

Ada was the first to break the contemplative silence between them. "Pol," she ventured. "Tommy's changed."

"I don't want to hear this right now," Polly put her fingers to her temples. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

"Mum," Anna pleaded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean -"

"Ada's right. You deserved to know," said Polly. "But I don't wish to discuss it further."

"All right," Anna agreed. "Good night."

Polly retreated from the room. Ada poured herself another drink and handed one to Anna. Both women were contemplative, letting the tension in the air settle. Anna felt that the answers she'd received had only begotten more questions, but she couldn't seem to find the words to ask them.

"You still worked for Tommy," Anna said, looking up at Ada not with judgment but with curiosity. "After what he did."

Ada nodded but didn't speak right away. She took a sip of her drink and sighed deeply, fiddling with the simple ring that adorned her left hand - the memory of a husband who had been gone too soon. "He'd been through so much," she said. "He needed someone. I was afraid if he was left on his own…"

Her meaning hung heavily in the air, and Tommy's gaunt, haunted face flashed through Anna's mind.

"I respect Polly's choice - I mean, of course I do, but… at the end of the day, we're all he's got," said Ada. "And he _has_ changed," she said firmly, more to herself than to Anna. "He has."

Anna wondered if she would have been able to forgive someone who had allowed her to be thrown in prison. After all, it was easy for Ada to be the bigger person: she hadn't been compromised at the whim of another.

Anna considered what she had been through; the things she'd endured, the loneliness she'd survived. It wasn't Polly's fault, but there was a niggling, ugly feeling in the back of Anna's mind that wondered who else could be to blame. _Why didn't you protect me?_

But it didn't matter. Like Ada had said, Polly was all she had. She was Anna's family, and she was therefore forgiven. After all, if your family couldn't forgive you, then who could? Anna's heart suddenly ached for Tommy, whom she barely knew. What could drive someone to do something terrible enough to push away even those compelled by blood to love him?

"Do you think Polly will ever come around?" Anna asked softly.

"I don't know," Ada replied. "Polly can be a hard nut to crack. But she always did have a soft spot for Tommy."

"She seems fond of you all," Anna said, swallowing the slight tinge of bitterness that rose in her throat.

Ada shook her head. "No, it's different. She and Tommy are… they're the same, however much she'd hate to hear that."

Anna's lip curled up with disgust. "Polly would never do something like that to her family. Never."

Ada smiled softly, a bare movement of the corners of her mouth that might have been patronizing on someone less sweet. "She'd be pleased to know you think so highly of her," she said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" A wall of impenetrable stone shot up inside Anna, turning her heart dark and cold in its shadow. She wouldn't hear anything said against Polly. There was no room in her for it.

Ada reached out and put her hand on Anna's shoulder, but the warmth of her touch had little impact. "I just believe that anyone's capable of doing terrible things if pushed far enough."

"Maybe," Anna conceded. "Anyway, I ought to get to bed. Thank you for inviting me along today."

"Of course," Ada said. She stood and stretched, snuffing out the candle on the side table.

Anna gathered her belongings and started to head up to her bedroom, feeling unsettled and unsatisfied by any of the answers that had been given to her.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

"You look nice. Where are you off to?"

Anna looked up, wide-eyed, not having seen Polly sitting in the drawing room. It wasn't that she was sneaking - she was an adult, and she had no reason to sneak around or hide anything. However, she didn't mind Polly not knowing where she was headed, or who she was meeting.

"To the Garrison," Anna said. "Meeting up with Michael and Isiah for a pint."

Polly smiled, but it seemed strained, and it didn't reach all the way to her eyes. "I heard Isiah's taken quite a fancy to you," she said.

"Who said that?" Anna asked, turning to touch up her lipstick in the mirror so that she didn't have to meet Polly's piercing gaze.

"Finn mentioned it the last time I saw him," Polly said. "Said he's been chasing you around like a stray puppy."

"Finn's telling tales," Anna said. "Is will go for anything with two legs and no wedding band." She cocked her head. "Actually, scratch that: anything with two legs."

Polly chuckled. "All right," she said.

The truth was that Isiah was indeed enamored with Anna. When they went out together they danced almost solely with each other, and had kissed a few times. He was handsome and charming, and Anna liked him well enough, but she didn't want to attach herself to him. And as much as she was attracted to him, she worried that if she slept with him she wouldn't be able to shake him.

"You'll be careful out in Small Heath, won't you?"

Anna turned to meet her mother's eyes. "I'll be with Michael."

The unspoken but obvious next question was: _what could possibly happen?_

"Those boys have noses for trouble," Polly warned. "They tend to find themselves in it whether they want to or not."

"It's fine, Mum," Anna insisted. "It's just a pint."

"I am glad to see you spending time with Michael," Polly said, setting down her weapons.

"It's been good," she replied.

"You'll keep him in line, won't you?" When Polly asked this, she wrung her hands together, looking more vulnerable than Anna had ever seen her. She was anxious about something, though Anna couldn't quite put her finger on what it might be. Michael seemed to be doing well - successfully holding his senior position at the company, making plenty of money, staying out of trouble.

"Has he done something?" Anna asked, looking up at Polly curiously.

"No, no," Polly said, waving her hand and, magician-like, making the concern on her face disappear. "Mothers worry. You know."

"Sure, Mum," Anna said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I won't be back too late, but don't wait up."

"Of course, of course," Polly said. "Oh, and before you go: I've had a letter from Arthur and Linda."

"Oh?" Anna wondered why Polly would bring this up, considering that Anna had never met Arthur nor his wife Linda. They had moved to California long before Anna had showed up.

"They're coming to visit. They've had another baby, and they want to have him baptized here."

"That's wonderful," Anna said. "When do they arrive?"

"The baptism is on Sunday. Make sure you don't make any plans."

"Of course," Anna replied. "I'm looking forward to it."

"It's been so long since he's been home," Polly said. "That little one will be walking by now."

Anna nodded, unsure of how to respond. She was saved by the crunch of Michael's tires on the gravel outside. "That'll be Michael," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mum."

The big black car rumbled in the drive, somehow sounding impatient, though its driver was staring lazily up at the sky, the tip of his cigarette glowing like an ember. Anna opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

"How's things, sister?" Michael asked, turning to look at her.

"All right," she said, taking a deep inhale of the crisp night air. "It's good to be out. How are you?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Michael replied distantly, his eyes on the road yet seeming unfocused.

"Where are we off to tonight?" Anna asked. Michael always seemed to know where the best clubs were, and he always had a table reserved in his name. Last week they'd been to a club where they'd been seated next to the actor Jack Buchanan, and Anna had to bite her lip to keep her mouth from falling open. She'd lived luxuriously in Australia and rubbed elbows with some of Melbourne's rich and famous, but Jack Buchanan was more respected than all of them combined. He'd even asked her for a dance, which she gladly accepted, feeling Michael's and Isiah's glares on her back the entire time.

"Uh, the Garrison probably," he replied, still distracted.

Anna pouted. _Boring._

"But we're meeting Is somewhere else first."

Anna perked up. "Where?"

"I have to make a delivery for the company," Michael said.

"At this hour?" Anna asked.

"What are you, my mother?" he snapped, finally turning to meet her eyes. His were ice cold, and they sent a shock through Anna's arms and legs.

"I was just curious," she said, folding her arms across her chest defensively. "Sorry."

They drove along in silence for a few minutes, then Michael ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Anna. I'm under a bit of stress."

"Hmph," Anna replied. "You need to have more fun."

Michael turned to her with a sly smirk. "You're right," he said. "I think we both do."

He took one hand off the wheel and reached into his pocket, then tossed a small vial full of white powder across the front seat to her. It landed daintily in her lap.

"For your trouble," he said. "I'm sorry for dragging you along to work."

Anna grinned, pinching the small vial between her fingers. "I forgive you," she chirped. "Want to share?"

"After," he said. "I need my wits about me."

"That sounds awfully nefarious," she commented. "I thought you and Tommy had gone straight."

"What?"

"Mum told me. About the work you used to do. Ada said you don't do that anymore, though."

"We don't," Michael said firmly. "But we still have to work with unsavory people from time to time."

"I see," Anna said. She reached over to pop open the glove box, rummaging for a spare pound note. Instead her palm brushed against cold steel. She closed her hand around the barrel of a pistol, a small one, but a pistol nonetheless. She carefully retrieved it from the box and held it aloft, her hand curved around the stock, the barrel pointed downward. The same feeling had crossed her when she'd purchased her first gun - heady, erotic power. "More nefarious than I thought," she commented.

Michael's head turned. "Put that away," he hissed. "Jesus, Anna."

"Gone straight my arse," she laughed. "I knew you were up to something."

"It's for protection, Anna, nothing else," Michael insisted.

"Why do I feel like nobody in Birmingham is honest about a damn thing?" Anna asked, carefully stowing the pistol back in the glove box. "What are you up to, Michael?"

They were entering a city, not Small Heath, but another borough of Birmingham that Anna had never visited. It was dimly lit and there were few people about, mostly just workmen outside smoking, nothing but steaming silhouettes. The whole place reeked of coal and dark smoke. Anna felt dirty just driving through it.

"Anna, we're almost there, and I need you to just - just be quiet for a bit, will you?"

"Sure, brother," she replied, taunting. She opened the vial and tipped it, tapping it gently so that it formed a small line of powder on her index finger. She inhaled sharply, taking in the powder along with the dusty air of the city, then shook her head violently, feeling the jolt of electricity hit her brain. "Jesus, that's good," she said. "Nothing like the shit we had in Australia."

"Hmm," Michael said, pulling down a dark alleyway. "Just wait here, OK? I'll be back in a minute."

Anna looked down the empty alley, her stomach knotting. "I thought you said you were meeting Isiah," she said.

"He's inside," Michael said. "I'll be back."

And like that, he was gone, through a doorway in the side of a brick building that Anna had hardly noticed. Her heart was beginning to race, from the cocaine and from her nerves at being left alone in a strange place. She tapped her foot impatiently.

Minutes passed, and something was mounting in her brain, something between terrible anxiety and foolhardy bravery. She got out of the car.

The door was unlocked, to her surprise. Perhaps this wasn't all as suspicious as it seemed. She was walking down a long hallway. Ahead she could hear the clattering of pots and pans and the sizzling of something cooking. The smell of spices was almost overwhelming in her heightened state. There was a kitchen through a door the right - she peered inside and saw four black men dressed in white, cooking and chattering as they did so. They didn't notice her and she slunk past toward the door at the end of the hallway. The thrumming of a bass drum seemed to be coming through it. She reached out and pushed it open, and a wave of sound nearly knocked her over.

It was a club, an immensely loud and crowded one. Bodies were packed inside and the air was humid with sweat from people dancing and drinking and performing, the music so loud that it erased Anna's heartbeat. As she looked around, trying to find Michael and Isiah, she noticed something unique about the club, something she'd never experienced before: she was the only white person in it.

Before she could begin to process, a tall man was at her side, his hand between her shoulder blades. "Excuse me miss," he said in a low voice. "I think you must be lost."

Anna looked up at him - he was impossibly tall and thick as a tree trunk, and for a moment she swallowed her voice. "I-I'm looking for my brother," she said.

"Does he look like you?" the man asked, a smirk creeping up at the corner of his mouth.

Anna nodded.

"Come on then," he said.

He took her hand, as it was the most efficient way to pull her through the throng of people as they made their way toward the back of the club. People stared as she passed, some curiously, others angrily, and Anna kept her eyes fixed on the man's back, trying to even out her breathing. _There's nothing to fear_ , she told herself. _They're just people._

The truth was, Isiah and his father were the only black people she knew, or had ever interacted with. And though in ideals, she was pro-equality and rather progressive, she was afraid. She'd never been outnumbered like this, and the ugly things that she'd heard through her lifetime about people like this were beginning to flood her brain like buzzing gnats.

The man led her through yet another door, and when he closed it behind them Anna's ears were ringing from the contrast between the loud club and the muted, carpeted hallway. There were ornate sconces along the walls, and the walls were papered in a dusty pink floral. The man knocked on the second door on the right, two short knocks and one long.

"Come in," a voice called from inside.

The man pushed the door open and gestured for Anna to walk ahead.

The room was warm and smelled of cigar smoke and rum. There was a desk at the center of it, and at the desk sat an incredibly handsome man, with high cheekbones and a shining bald head. His skin was dark, so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around him and expel it back through his eyes, which shone brightly like a cat's. He looked up at Anna with those luminous eyes and she gulped nervously - she knew she was not supposed to be here, and he did not look like the type to forgive.

"Mr. King," the man who had intercepted Anna said. "The Gray boy's sister."

Michael and Isiah were sitting across the desk from Mr. King and their backs were turned to Anna. They both whirled to look at her. Michael's eyes flashed with anger, and she stared back helplessly.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I-I-"

"What is this, Michael?" Mr. King asked, his voice even but warm, as though a fire raged below it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. King," Michael said. "I asked her to stay in the car. She must have gotten nervous."

"Not very gentlemanly of you, Michael," King said. "A lady should never be left alone in the city. Please have a seat, Miss Gray." He gestured to a chair in the corner of the room, slightly behind Isiah and Michael. Anna sank into it guiltily, like a child being punished. "I trust you know, Miss Gray, whatever is spoken in this room is spoken in confidence," he said.

"Of course," Anna replied quietly.

"Good," Mr. King said decisively. "Now please continue, Michael."

Michael cast Anna one last glare then cleared his throat. "As I was saying, Mr. King, because of my connections within Shelby Company Limited I have access to certain export licenses that could connect you with ease to your family in New York," he said. Anna might have been imagining it, but she thought he sounded a bit ruffled.

"Shelby Company Limited," someone repeated.

Anna looked up. On King's right side sat a person, with his same high cheekbones and bright eyes, but smaller and slighter - feminine in stature, even. However, the person was dressed in a man's suit that revealed nothing of their figure, and their coiled black hair was cut short, above their ears. The person wore no makeup, but their lips were full and their lashes long and dark.

"As in Tommy Shelby?" the person asked. Their voice was of a medium timbre - higher pitched than King's, but resonant nonetheless.

"Tommy has nothing to do with this," Michael said firmly. "I'm here of my own accord."

"I heard Tommy's on the right side of the law now," the person continued. "But I had a hard time believing it."

"It's true," Michael said. "He doesn't know I'm here."

The person narrowed their eyes. "I have no interest in doing business with Tommy Shelby," they said.

"Sasha," King said in his deep, commanding voice, holding his hand out toward the person. "That's enough. If Michael says Tommy's not in on it, I believe him."

"Thank you, Mr. King," Michael said. Anna could feel anger rising off him like steam.

"You'll have to forgive my sister," he said. "When we first came here Tommy made it very hard for us to start our business."

"I understand," Michael said. "That was then. This is now. Tommy's done with the game. He's gone soft."

"And you're here to take his place I suppose?" Sasha interjected again.

"I am here of my own accord," Michael repeated in a low voice. "I represent no one but myself."

"And we welcome your cooperation, Michael," said King, casting Sasha a warning glance. "I believe we will be quite successful together."

"Couldn't agree more, Mr. King," Michael said, extending his hand for King to shake. King did so, Sasha glowering all the while by his side. The men and Sasha stood, and so Anna did too, grateful that things seemed to be coming to an end.

"Now we celebrate," King boomed. "Stay. Drink. Dance."

"Oh, Mr. King, I don't-" Michael started.

"I insist," he said. "Isiah. Tell them."

"It's better than the Garrison," Isiah with a shrug and a smirk.

"All right," Michael said. He glanced at Anna, then at Isiah. "One drink."

Isiah was suddenly at Anna's side, his hand protectively on the small of her back. "Fancy meeting you here," he said out of the side of his mouth as King led them back down the hallway. "You know how to make an entrance, don't you?"

"I do my best," Anna replied with a smile, tension melting away from her body and leaving her loose and slightly manic.

"Mike's pissed, you know that right?" he said.

"He shouldn't have left me outside," Anna replied, a slightly hysteric giggle bubbling from her mouth. King, Michael and their entourage disappeared through the door, and Isiah paused, looping his arm around Anna's waist. The door closed and Isiah leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, bringing his hand up to the back of her neck. Anna let herself melt into it - he was warm, he smelled like tobacco and cologne, and his lips were soft, so soft. That was the problem with him. It was so easy to give in.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he said once he pulled away, voice husky and thick. "Jesus."

"Let's dance," she replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the door.

Two more lines of cocaine, three glasses of champagne, and a great many songs later, Anna was on top of the world. The music was loud, the people energetic, and Isiah was just as high as she was, his feet moving in a blur as he twirled her across the floor. Michael, never one for dancing, was smoking in a corner with King, discussing something in hushed tones. Anna realized as she watched him that she had forgotten to be angry with him for lying to her about going straight. The part of her brain capable of anger was too distant for that now, though, and so she kept dancing.

The next song was a slow one, and Isiah pulled her close, his hand resting languidly on her lower back, his rough cheek pressed against her soft one. "Anna," he said into her ear. "You're so beautiful."

She never knew how to respond to that. Agree? Protest? Say thank you? She opted for silence.

"Why don't we go somewhere a little more quiet?" he murmured.

It was hard to say no. Even as they were dancing her body was arching into him, wanting him. Her face was warm and tingling, and she wanted to kiss him just because she knew it would feel good. So she did, insistently, knocking her teeth against his with her urgency. He wanted her - she could feel it as he pressed against her. She wasn't thinking, she was acting, and all of the reservations that should have stopped her had disappeared like bubbles in a glass of champagne left out too long.

They went down the hallway, past King's office, through a door. His hands slid under her dress. She bit down on his earlobe. She was on a desk, his hands were cupping her ass, pulling her closer, closer still, and then -

"What the fuck?"

Anna hurriedly pulled down the hem of her dress as Isiah turned to see the source of the voice. As she saw who was standing in the doorway, her face turned bright crimson. It was Sasha, King's sister, looking furious.

"Isiah," she said, pointedly not looking at Anna as she readjusted her dress. "That's my desk."

"Sasha, I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "We just got… carried away, you know?"

"How about getting carried away in someone else's office, hmm?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Or at least ask first."

She crossed the room so that she was standing in front of Anna. She had a few inches on Anna, so that Anna had to look up to meet her eyes. "I don't think we've officially met," she said sternly, extending her hand. "Sasha King."

"Anna Gray," Anna replied, attempting to regain some semblance of dignity. Sasha's hand was warm and smooth, her grip strong. "I'm sorry about… this."

Sasha cast a glare in Isiah's direction. "If it was anyone else, I'd be taking him outside and teaching him a lesson. But I've known Is since before he knew what to do with his cock."

Isiah looked down, cheeks even more flushed than before. Anna bit back a smirk.

"I didn't realize you two knew each other," Anna said.

"Our fathers were friends," Sasha replied before Isiah could speak. "Your accent isn't Brummie."

"Erm, no," Anna replied. "I'm from Australia. Melbourne."

Sasha furrowed her eyebrows. "But you're Michael's sister, aren't you?"

"It's a long story," Anna said. "Speaking of Michael, I should probably go find him -"

"Isiah," Sasha interrupted. "Let me talk to your girlfriend a second. She'll catch up."

Sasha spoke like royalty, worthy of her surname. Isiah practically bowed on his way out the door, head hung low, no questions asked. Anna cocked her eyebrow, impressed, but also nervous - her heart was pounding again, as it had since the beginning of the night. She wondered if it might just expend itself.

Sasha leaned back, thrusting her hands into her deep trouser pockets. Her eyes were soft, friendly even, and she was smiling at Anna in a way that Anna couldn't quite translate.

"I shouldn't stay long," Anna said. "Michael's not long on patience."

"Franklin's setting him up with one of my girls," Sasha said. She turned to a cabinet on the side of the room and opened it, retrieving a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. "He'll be a while."

She held out one of the glasses toward Anna. Anna thought briefly of Isiah, wondering where he'd gotten to. Then she nodded. Sasha filled both the glasses halfway and handed one of them to Anna.

"To new friends," Sasha said, clinking her glass against Anna's, piercing her with unwavering eye contact.

"To new friends," Anna murmured. Someone had once told her it was bad luck to break eye contact during a toast, so she refused to look away until she had swallowed a sip of whiskey. Sasha did the same.

"So, how does Michael Gray have a sister from Australia?" Sasha asked.

Anna sat down in the chair across from the desk while Sasha still perched on the edge of the desk, as though she might run off at any moment.

"We were separated as children," Anna said, unsure of why she was being so honest. "Taken from our mother. Michael stayed here, but I was shipped off."

"Troublemaker, huh?" Sasha teased.

"You could say that."

"Must run in the family."

"Perhaps," Anna agreed, lowering her lashes coquettishly. The combination of cocaine, champagne, and the leftover excitement from her encounter with Isiah were forming a dangerous elixir that was racing through her veins at an alarming rate.

Anna looked up to find that she was being studied. Now that she was closer, Anna could see that Sasha's eyes were a light amber brown, and they glowed like lanterns in the warm yellow light of her office. To avoid being completely hypnotized, she went on the offensive.

"You said Michael's talking to one of your girls," Anna said. "What do you mean by that?"

"My brother's put me in charge of hiring the entertainment around here. Dancers, escorts, etcetera. I only choose the best of the best."

"I used to dance," Anna blurted. "In Australia."

"Are you looking for an audition?" Sasha raised an eyebrow, eying Anna with something akin to hunger.

A lump formed in Anna's throat, and she swallowed it down with some effort. "Those days are behind me," she replied, lifting her chin.

"Right," Sasha said. "You're a Shelby now."

"A Gray," Anna corrected.

"Same thing," Sasha retorted.

Anna bristled.

"Look," Sasha continued diplomatically. "I don't know your brother from Adam. But there are a lot of people out there who consider him Thomas Shelby's little protege, and I'm not particularly fond of Thomas Shelby."

"I noticed," Anna said. "But if we're being honest here, I know very little about Thomas Shelby myself. So why exactly did you ask me to stay behind?"

"Just trying to get a feel for the Gray family," Sasha replied. Her smile had changed without Anna noticing, from soft to dangerous, hiding crocodile teeth. "So you and Isiah…"

"Friends," Anna said, taking a sip of whiskey.

Sasha chuckled. "You're awfully nice to your friends."

"Only the good-looking ones."

Sasha leaned her head back and laughed, loudly, without a woman's coy reservation. Anna smiled into her glass, and when she looked up, Sasha was leaning forward, decreasing the space between them. "Are we friends, Gray?" she asked, her voice low and smoky like the air around them.

Anna's lungs were suddenly tight as Sasha's eyes bored into hers. Her lips pulled up in the corners into a teasing smirk. "We could be," Anna answered. "I suppose it depends."

"On what?" Sasha stood and strode, predator-like, across the room to stand in front of Anna's chair. She leaned down, putting her hands on the arms of the chair. Their faces were only inches apart. She was intimidating, to be sure - she and her brother shared a sureness of posture, a fierceness of gaze. But up close like this, her femininity was impossible to deny, in the curve of her lips, the softness of her jaw. Her breath was light and sweet; it warmed the tip of Anna's nose, and the sensation traveled down her neck, through her chest and settled below her belly.

"On how things go with my brother," she replied coolly, refusing to be shaken. "After all, he's blood. His friends are my friends."

Sasha bit down on her bottom lip. Anna was so close she could see the exact moment the soft flesh gave way to white teeth, and she swallowed, hard. Just when Anna didn't think she could stand the closeness anymore, Sasha pulled away, turning her back on Anna.

"It's interesting, isn't it?" Sasha said, pouring herself a second glass of whiskey. "Being a sister."

"I'm still getting used to the idea," Anna replied, trying to hide the fact that she was catching her breath.

"Brothers treat their brothers like partners. Brothers treat sisters like property."

Anna didn't say anything. Maybe Sasha's brother treated her that way, but that wasn't Michael. He was Anna's friend. He had protected her. She had only just gotten him back, and she wouldn't be turned against him.

"No matter how brotherly I try to be, Franklin still refuses to listen to me." Sasha paused and took a drink, seeming to ponder something. "I don't trust your brother, Anna."

"I'm sorry," Anna replied warily. "But I'm not sure what I can do about that."

"Assure me that my brother's made a good choice in going into business with yours," Sasha said. She sank into the chair behind her desk, unguarded, exhausted.

Anna took a breath to speak, but her reply died in her throat. All she could think of was the way that Michael had lied to her, made her wait in the car, left her on her own in an unsafe neighborhood. It was as though every day she spent with Michael made her realize how little she really knew about him. Though she owed Sasha and her brother nothing, her conscience was screaming at her to be honest about Michael's integrity. But blood won out.

"Michael will come through," she said. "He's good for his word."

Sasha peered at Anna as though she could see right through her to the truth behind her words, waiting quietly to see if she would amend her statement. Anna didn't.

"All right," Sasha said. "I suppose that means we might be seeing more of each other in the future."

"I suppose it does," Anna replied.

"Then there's one good thing to come out of this mess," Sasha winked. "Let's get you back to the party, shall we?"

The two women walked back down the long hallway, back toward the siren-like call of jazz music. After bidding Sasha goodbye, Anna searched the room for Michael, suddenly jumpy and itching to leave. Isiah found her first. "Everything all right?" he asked, shouting to be heard over the music.

Anna nodded, somewhat dazed. "Where's Michael?" she asked.

Isiah pointed to the table where Michael was sitting with a waifish girl on his knee, as Sasha had promised. "He's a bit busy," Isiah said, the corner of his lips pulling up into a smile.

"I want to go home," she said. "Will you take me?"

"I'll take you anywhere you want to go," he said gamely, interlacing his fingers with hers.

She smiled. She knew she was being selfish, knew she was going to hurt him, knew that it would be a mistake. But she smiled up at him, her eyes smoldering, and let him lead her out of the club into the smoky night air.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Anna had never seen Polly so on edge.

She was running around the house with a feather duster, cleaning surfaces that had already been cleaned twice, readjusting picture frames by millimeters, and berating the younger maids until they cried. Ada and Anna were sitting on Anna's bed on the second floor, being as quiet as possible to avoid Polly's attention while Karl sat on the floor playing with a toy truck. Even Ruben wasn't immune to her fury; he had holed himself away in his studio and hadn't been heard from since the day before.

Ada was lying on her stomach reading while Anna thumbed through a months-old magazine. The sound of Polly's wrath floated through the door and Ada stifled a laugh. "I ought to have a word with her," she said. "She can't treat the maids like that."

"There aren't even that many people coming to the reception," Anna commented. "Why is she so bent out of shape?"

"It's the first time the family's been all together in ages," Ada replied. "Polly hasn't been in the same building as Tommy and Arthur since…"

"I see," Anna said. "She's letting Tommy come?"

"Arthur insisted," she said. "You'll understand when you meet Linda. She's very big on forgiveness."

"This will be interesting." Anna returned to her magazine, reading about last season's best-selling fashions.

"Is Isiah coming today?" Ada asked, peering over the top of her book to waggle her eyebrows at Anna.

Anna sighed and rolled her eyes. "He does what he wants."

"No, he does what _you_ want," Ada laughed. "When are you going to own up to the fact that he's completely head over heels for you?"

"Ada," Anna warned. "I don't want to talk about it."

"If you don't feel the same way you really ought to tell him," Ada continued. "He's a good man."

"I know he is," Anna said. "And he knows where I stand."

"Does he?" Ada replied.

Just then, the door swung open. "Oh. My. God." Polly stood in the doorway, mouth agape. "You two have been lazing about up here while I break my back getting the house ready?"

"We're watching Karl!" Ada protested, gesturing to Karl, who looked up, wide-eyed.

"Karl is old enough to not need constant supervision," Polly replied. "Both of you get downstairs and _help me_."

"Mum," Anna entreated. "Everything's done. It's been done for hours."

" _Go,_ " she repeated. Her face was so menacing that the two girls couldn't help but obey, dashing down the stairs like naughty children, half-afraid that they'd be swatted with the feather duster.

An hour later, even Polly was exhausted and had given up the fight, and all of them had retreated to get ready for the baptism. Anna hadn't been to a church since she was a child, and she stared into her wardrobe, wondering what she owned that was appropriate. She settled on a relatively unadorned silk navy dress, covered by a cream knit cardigan. She put on a pair of low-heeled shoes and a matching cloche hat and headed for the door.

Polly was adjusting Karl's suit while Ada chatted with Ruben, and for a moment, Anna paused at the foot of the stairs. A warm feeling came over her, in spite of the fact that the day might not go well, in spite of the fact that there would be Isiah to contend with, and in spite of the fact that Michael hadn't spoken to her since the incident at the Kings' club. This was her family. She had made the right choice in coming back.

"Anna, you look lovely," Polly said, her face relaxing into a smile.

Anna couldn't help but smile back. "So do you," Anna replied, for as always, Polly looked perfectly polished and styled to a t.

"Let's be off, then," Polly said, herding everyone through the door and toward the car.

When they arrived, the church was packed full of Shelby and Lee family members and friends of all sorts. They were rather raucous for a church group, and Anna hid a smile behind her glove as they entered. She spotted Michael and Isiah first, next to John, Esme, and the gaggle of kids that made up their family. They made up the entire second row on the right side of the church. In front of them must have been Arthur and Linda. Arthur was the tallest of the Shelby brothers, with a bushy mustache and twinkling blue eyes. Linda was a petite blonde with a soft, graceful air about her, and she had a two-year-old girl in her arms with similarly blonde locks of curly hair. Polly led the way toward them and joined them in the first pew. She embraced them both warmly and fawned over the little girl, who was sucking her thumb shyly. Ada elbowed her way forward and embraced her brother fiercely, whispering something in his ear that Anna couldn't hear. Ruben shook Arthur's hand, hugged Linda, and then Anna was left, looking up at the strangers warily.

"Arthur, this is my Anna," Polly said, sounding as though she were bursting with emotion.

"Pleasure to meet you, Anna," said Arthur, who, in spite of having lived in California over the past two years, still had one of the thickest Brummie accents she had ever heard. To Anna's surprise, he pulled into her an immediate hug, and she patted his back stiffly.

When he had released her, Linda was smiling at her with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

"I'm Linda," she said, extending her free hand politely. "And this is little Lydia."

"Hello, Linda," Anna replied gratefully. "And hello, Lydia."

Lydia smiled up at her shyly, but didn't respond, and Anna looked away awkwardly - she never had been comfortable around children.

"What have you done with the boy of the hour?" Polly asked, peering around the church curiously. Arthur nodded over to the side of the church, where the prayer candles were lit. Tommy was there, a dark-haired young boy at his side and a small bundle that must have been Arthur's newest in his arms. He was talking out of the side of his mouth to the bundle, inaudible under the buzz of the crowd.

Polly stiffened. "He's with his godfather," Arthur said, clearing his throat. Linda smiled up at him approvingly.

Polly gaped at Arthur. "You didn't," she protested.

Arthur held his hand up. "Pol, I don't want to hear about it. Linda and I have been talking to Tommy and we discussed it -"

"I suppose anyone can be a good godfather a world away -" Polly started flippantly.

"Well that's what we were going to tell you, Polly," Arthur interrupted. "We're not going back."

"You're what?!" Ada crowed, drawing stares from the rest of the church.

"We're moving back to Birmingham," Arthur said, beaming. "Linda and I agreed that it's best to be near family. We're annoucing it at the reception."

Ada jumped forward to hug her brother again. "Oh, Arthur," she said. She pulled Linda into the hug, Linda seeming to smile against her own will. "I'm so happy!"

"We are too, sister. We are too," Arthur said, patting her back.

Anna sneaked a look at Polly, who was biting her lip, measuring her next words. "You could have warned us, Arthur," she chided.

"We wanted to surprise you," he said, studying her curiously. "I thought you'd be happy to have the little ones nearby."

Polly looked again at Tommy, who was softly bouncing Arthur's baby in his arms, his own son looking on curiously. A shadow passed over her face, and she pursed her lips.

"Of course I am," she said distractedly.

The processional music started just then, and people scattered to their seats. Tommy handed Arthur the baby, and he and Charlie took their places next to Arthur and Linda. Tension was radiating from Polly, and Ruben took her hand. She hissed something quietly into his ear and he nodded, stone-faced.

The pastor had reached the front of the church, and he led them in an opening prayer. Then, he invited Arthur, Linda and the new baby, whose name was Peter Thomas, to the front of the church. "Next," the pastor said. "I'll invite up the child's chosen godparents, selected by Mr. and Mrs. Shelby. Thomas Shelby, please step forward."

Tommy did, keeping his eyes forward.

"And Mrs. Polly Gray, please join us as well."

Polly's eyes widened, and for a moment, Anna thought she might refuse right there in front of everyone. But Ruben whispered something in her ear, and she squeezed past Anna to exit the pew and approach the front of the church. She and Tommy stood behind Arthur and Linda, and Arthur handed Peter to the pastor.

"Before we baptize this child, do you, Thomas Shelby, promise to be instrumental in the growth of this child, and to be his spiritual guide?"

"I do," Tommy said, firmly but quietly.

It was barely noticeable, but Polly's fists were clenched.

"And you, Polly Gray, do you promise to do the same?"

"I do," she said, her voice ringing through the church clear as a bell.

"Good," he said. "And do you, Arthur and Linda Shelby, promise to raise this child in the ways of the church, encouraging him and guiding him always?"

"We do," they said, beaming down at Peter.

"Then, it is my joy and honor to baptize this child in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," he said, delicately dipping Peter's head into the fount. The baby stirred, raising his fists in the air, but didn't cry out. Linda wrapped him in a blanket and clutched him close to her chest, her eyes filled with joyful tears. Arthur looked at them with adoration, then turned to smile at Tommy. Tommy clapped his hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed. Polly glowered.

The pastor led them in a closing prayer and then the service was over. Everyone cheered, causing Arthur and Linda to laugh, and then there was a mass exodus from the church to the front steps. A photographer gathered them all into a group on the front stairs, packing them tightly as sardines in a can. Anna was squeezed between Polly and Michael, who had somehow found his way back to them. She didn't look up at him - they hadn't spoken since she'd left him behind at the club in Birmingham, and now was hardly the time or place. Polly was still radiating anger, and Anna was glad that the Grays were not the focus of the portrait, because they were an unhappy family indeed.

Once the photo had been taken, Arthur whistled loudly with his fingers. "There's a reception at Pol's, and you're all invited!" he announced. "The Mrs. and I will see you there."

Anna almost had to run to keep up with Polly's angry stride toward the car. Ruben caught her eye and gave her a look that clearly said _Speak at your own risk,_ and so Anna silently slid into the backseat of the car where she didn't have to worry about making eye contact with Polly, who was sitting in the passenger seat while Ruben drove.

The car started, and so did Polly. "Can you _believe_ him?" Polly cried. She slammed her hands against the dashboard of the car, causing Anna to jump with surprise and Ruben to cringe visibly. "After everything that's happened, after the way Tommy's treated Arthur, he just… just…" she sputtered.

"Now, Polly," Ruben said cautiously. "Arthur's a grown man. If he's decided to forgive Thomas-"

" _Forgive Thomas?!"_ she roared. "You don't understand, Ruben. Tommy must have gotten into his head somehow. Because there is no possible way that Arthur would forgive Thomas after what he did. There is no way."

After this, Ruben was silent. Anna took her cue from him, staring out the window as they made the drive back to Polly's. The morning mist had given way to a beautiful, sunny day, but the inside of the car felt like an icebox.

The front drive of Polly's house was already filling up with cars, and Ruben dropped them off at the front steps before going to find a place to park. Polly turned to Anna before they entered. "Anna," she said quietly, peering over her shoulder to make sure that no one was listening. "You shouldn't let any of this fool you, do you understand me? Michael worships the ground Tommy walks on, but I won't have him taking two of my children from me."

Anna wanted to offer some word of comfort, wanted to somehow assure her that Anna wouldn't be lost ever again. But her mouth was dry, her stomach anxious. "All right, Mum," she murmured, squeezing Polly's thin, fragile-seeming shoulder. She looped Polly's elbow into her own. "Let's go inside. You didn't do all that cleaning not to enjoy the day."

Polly managed a smile as they entered the room, and immediately began to wander around with Anna on her arm, introducing her to those she hadn't met yet and welcoming everyone to her home. She played the part of gracious host with aplomb, completely erasing any sign of her earlier distress from her face.

Anna had to admit that the house looked amazing, and cozy in spite of its immaculate cleanliness. Everyone had gathered in the grand room. Men in suits were wandering with drink and appetizer-filled trays, and people were talking and laughing, Arthur and Linda in the center of it all with warm looks on their faces. Their joy was undeniable and contagious - everyone who orbited around them seemed to absorb it.

Michael and Isiah were drinking champagne and talking furtively in a corner, and Isiah caught Anna's eye as she crossed the room at Polly's side. Anna smiled, and he gestured for her to come join them. Just as she was about to, someone approached from behind Polly.

"Pol," Tommy said in a low voice. "I need to talk to you."

Polly's grip on Anna's arm tightened.

"I have nothing to say to you," Polly said in a low, menacing voice that didn't match the smile on her face in the slightest. Anna pretended not to hear, looking in a different direction.

"Please," he entreated. "Just a few minutes. With everyone, not just me."

Polly let go of Anna's arm and whirled around to face him, dropping her smile. "This isn't like the old days, Thomas," she hissed. "You can't just call a family meeting and expect everyone to show up."

"That's not how it is, Polly," he muttered, thrusting his hands into his pockets and looking around to see if anyone had reacted to her sudden coldness. "We'll be in the library in five minutes," he continued.

Polly snarled, cat-like, and grabbed Tommy's arm, dragging him away from the center of the room. He was stone-faced, trying to maintain some dignity. Anna could no longer hear what they were saying over the hum of voices, but she watched cautiously as Polly berated him in a near whisper, jabbing her finger into his chest. He held his hands up, protesting innocence. A group of people next to Anna turned to look, and so she strode over to the two of them.

Putting a hand on Polly's arm, she said, "Mum. People are staring."

Anna fixed Tommy with an icy stare, irritated with him for goading Polly. He stared back at her with furrowed eyebrows, as though he wasn't quite sure who she was, though they'd spoken on multiple occasions. Then he turned back to Polly.

"You're welcome to say your piece, Pol. God knows I deserve it," he said. "But not here."

"Fine," she snapped. "We'll be there in five minutes."

"Good." Tommy stormed off toward the library, visibly agitated.

Polly smoothed her hair before turning back to Anna. "Five minutes," she said briskly. "Go tell your brother. Though I'm sure if Thomas is planning it, Michael already knows about it."

She walked away in a huff, leaving Anna bewildered by the turn of events and still confused by the idea of a family meeting. For fear of angering Polly further, though, she immediately looked around for Michael. He was still chatting with Isiah in the corner where she'd seen them before. Anna gritted her teeth, hoping that Isiah wouldn't add any further complication to things.

"Hello Michael. Isiah," she said by way of greeting. Isiah smiled, and before he could respond, she continued. "Michael, Mum wants to see you in the library in five minutes."

"What for?" he asked, looking around curiously.

"Tommy's asked for a meeting."

For the first time since they'd reunited, Michael looked truly caught off guard. If he were anyone slightly less poised, he might have spit out the sip of champagne he'd just taken. "He what?"

Anna sighed. "A meeting. In the library."

"And Mum's going to be there? And _you're_ going to be there?"

Anna bristled. "He asked for the family," she replied, trying not to take offense at his tone. "I'm going to go over there now if you'd like to join me."

"Yeah, all right," Michael responded, still looking dazed. "I'll be back, Is."

They started to walk in the direction of the library, but Isiah grabbed Anna's arm, holding her gently back. "Come see me after, yeah?" he asked, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. He could be so charming, and his good looks seemed to knock the wind out of her even as she meant to push him aside.

"All right," she said, unable to keep from smiling back at him. "But I've got to go."

"Be quick," he grinned.

She shook the breathless feeling off as she trotted to catch up with Michael. He strode along, unaffected by her presence. "So what's happening with you and Isiah?" he asked her, looking straight ahead.

"What has he told you?"  
"Nothing," Michael replied. "He's afraid I'll kill him if he tells me anything."

"You wouldn't, would you?" Anna asked warily.

He stopped outside the library door, turning to look at her. "I'll not have you fucking about with my friends, Anna," he said, rubbing a hand over his face with exasperation. "What's going to happen when you toss him over?"

"I'm not -" she protested, not sure which of his statements she wanted to address first. "It's none of your business who I spend time with."

"It is if it could cause problems for my business," Michael said, sounding for all the world like a scolding father.

"I'm not discussing this with you," she answered petulantly. "Let's go in."

He opened the door for her in a way that managed to be both polite and condescending, and she walked through the doorway with as much dignity as she could muster.

Ada was sitting on the sofa, holding baby Peter above her head and cooing at him delightedly. Esme sat next to her, smiling up at Peter, John at her side locked in conversation with Arthur, who was standing with Linda near the center of the room. Finn perched on the edge of the sofa, listening to Arthur and John intently. Polly sat primly in an armchair across from the sofa, and Tommy stood slightly away, out of Polly's peripheral vision, smoking and looking out the window.

He strode over as Michael and Anna entered. "Michael. Good," he said. "Anna, I'm glad you're here."

Anna stared at him, slightly bewildered, and managed a polite nod.

Tommy cleared his throat. "Now that everyone's here, I'd like to propose a toast."

Polly rolled her eyes, but raised her glass, and everyone else followed suit.

"To Arthur, Linda, Peter, and Lydia," he announced. "Welcome home."

"Welcome home," everyone repeated in a more subdued manner than Anna was used to from her cousins. Awkwardness hung heavily in the air, stretching from person to person like thick spiderweb.

"Now that we're all together," he continued, beginning to pace, "I have some things I'd like to say."

John shifted uncomfortably, and the look on Polly's face could have frozen flames.

"The first of which being that I am sorry."

Polly snorted, but Tommy carried on.

"I did what I did two years ago for a reason, but I was wrong not to trust you all with my plans. I was…"

Arthur had approached Tommy's side, and put his hand on his shoulder. "We know, Tom," he said softly.

Tommy cleared his throat. "Losing Grace and then almost losing Charlie very nearly destroyed me," he said. "And I am truly sorry that I brought you into the process."

"It's all right, Tommy," Ada said, rocking Peter gently in her arms and casting a glance toward Polly. "We're family. We forgive."

"I've spent the last two years working to become worthy of your forgiveness. I want us to be together again, to be a family again. And now that Arthur and Linda are back, I feel that we have a chance to do that." His voice was almost painfully sincere, soft and near-breaking. Even Anna could feel her heart wrenching as he focused on Polly. "Pol," he said. "Please come back. Things are better; you can just ask Ada. It's just like we always wanted. Everything official."

The room was silent for a moment, anticipation heavy in the air.

Polly crossed her hands in her lap, possibly to keep them from trembling. Then she looked up at Tommy, and her eyes shimmered like flames. "You thought if you got me here in front of everyone that I'd be forced to forgive you?" Her voice was menacing, the rattling of a snake before the strike.

"No, Polly, I just-"

"Listen to me, Thomas Shelby," she said, rising from her seat. "You may have tricked Arthur into forgiving you-"

Here Arthur tried to protest, but Polly held up her hand so emphatically that he barely got a word out.

"You may have tricked Arthur into forgiving you, but you won't do the same to me. I've given enough in the service of King Tommy Shelby," she spat. "I'm done. And the rest of you would do well to follow in my footsteps."

She turned to Arthur next, pleading. "Especially you, Arthur. You finally got away. Why on earth would you come back?"

Arthur shrugged, taking Linda's hand in his own. "I'm a Shelby, Pol," he said. "I've done some things I'm not proud of. Some of them - maybe even most of them - were alongside Tommy. But I'm living proof of the fact that people can change."

"He didn't accept you when you'd changed, Arthur," Polly insisted. "He tried to keep you here, as his mad dog. Don't you remember? Did that California air addle your brain?"

Arthur stood tall in the face of Polly's fury. "That's between Tommy and I," he said. "He's apologized for the way he treated me, and I've chosen to forgive him."

"You never were the smarter one," she replied cruelly, turning on her heel and heading for the door.

Linda furrowed her eyebrows with anger, and Anna cringed seeing the hurt look on Arthur's face. However, he just took a deep breath and patted his wife on the shoulder. "S'alright, Linda," he said. "She's not ready."

The door slammed loudly behind Polly as she exited, and no one spoke right away. Finally Arthur cleared his throat. "She'll come around, Tom," he said. "In the meantime, you have Linda and me."

"Me and Esme, as well," John said.

"And me," Finn interjected.

Ada just smiled, her eyes full of worry.

"Thank you," Tommy said, looking around at them solemnly. "We're going to need all hands on deck."

"Why's that, Tom?" Michael called from the side of the room. He grinned as though he were in on a secret. Arthur and John exchanged a confused glance.

"Shelby Company Limited is expanding to the states," Tommy said, his lips turning up into the first smile that Anna had ever seen from him.

The room burst into cheers, and Ada's hands flew to her mouth.

"I didn't want to tell you until I was sure, Ada," he said. "Come here."

Ada stood, and she looked as though she might cry. Tommy put his arm around her shoulders. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to meet the United States ambassador for Shelby Company Limited: Mrs. Ada Thorne."

Everyone erupted into cheers again, Anna clapping her hands joyfully.

"You bastard," Ada said, laughing as she dissolved into tears. "I've wanted this for so long."

He pulled her into a hug. "You deserve it, Ada. New York won't know what to do with you."

She whispered something in his ear, but it was drowned out by everyone's excited chatter and Peter's crying, as he'd been disrupted when Ada had handed him to Esme.

"Let's get back to the party before we're missed," Ada said, wiping her eyes. "I'm afraid we're not being very good guests. Tommy -"

"I'm going to go home. Can Charlie stay with you?"

Ada nodded, clasping his shoulder briefly before exiting the room. Everyone began to drift from the library when Tommy's voice cut through again. "Anna," he said. "Can I have a word?"

Anna's stomach tightened as she remembered what Polly had asked of her earlier. Was he going to ask her to join the company? She wouldn't dare incur Polly's wrath that way, but at the same time, the warmth in the library was undeniable… everything she had missed for the previous eighteen years.

The room was empty except for the two of them, and Anna realized she couldn't recall a time they'd been alone. What did he want?

"Anna," he said. "I know you don't know me very well, and I'm sorry for that. I haven't wanted to make things worse with Polly."

Anna nodded in understanding.

"I was hoping she would be ready to mend fences, but I can't blame her," he continued. "But I'm not quite sure how to proceed without her."

"Tommy," Anna interrupted. "If you're going to ask me to work for you, I'm sorry, but I just can't. Not now. I've only just come back and I -"

"I know, Anna," he said. "It's all right."

"Oh," Anna replied, turning slightly pink.

"I only need a favor, and you're welcome to say no," he said casually, taking a seat on the sofa. Anna stayed standing, feeling uncomfortable.

"What is it?"

"Part of the reason I need Polly back is because of Michael," he explained. "I think he's up to something."

"And you need Polly to keep him in check," Anna realized.

Tommy nodded, and Anna laughed.

"You're asking the wrong person," she said. "Michael doesn't tell me anything, either."

"Would you tell me if he did?" Tommy asked. He looked Anna directly in the eyes, his ice-blue eyes piercing her brown ones.

She shook her head. "No."

He smiled. "I didn't think so," he said. "Can't blame you for that. But listen. Our move to America is predicated on our being a legitimate business. If Michael's doing anything to threaten that…"

"I understand," Anna replied.

"I've tried to impart that to him, but I'm afraid Michael has a mind of his own," he said. "I know he's up to something, Anna. I'm going to find out. It would be better for him if he stopped before I do."

"Why haven't you said this to him?" Anna asked.

"I need Michael," Tommy said. "He's a great bookkeeper, and he knows everything about our business. It's not in my best interest to estrange him unless absolutely necessary."

"So you want me to talk to him?"

"Only if you want to."

"I'll think about it," Anna replied, remaining guarded. She was irritated with Michael; that was a fact. But she wasn't ready to give up on him, not yet. However, Tommy didn't seem like the kind of person she wanted to be on the wrong side of either. Then she thought of Ada's joyful tears, and wondered if Michael's actions could somehow take that away from her. "I'll let you know," she said.

"Thank you," Tommy said. "Welcome to the family."

Anna smirked, her stomach twisting with guilt.


End file.
